Classics 


SELECTIONS  FROM 
POE 


GIFT  OF 


EDUCATION 


s 


EOGAR    ALLAtf    POE 

After  an  engraving  by  Cole 


SELECTIONS    FROM 


EDITED  WITH  BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  CRITICAL 

INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES 

BY 

J.  MONTGOMERY  GAMBRILL 

ASSISTANT  PROFESSOR  OF  HISTORY  IN  TEACHERS  COLLBGB 
COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 


GINN  AND  COMPANY 

BOSTON  •  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  LONDON 
ATLANTA  •  DALLAS  •  COLUMBUS  •  SAN  FRANCISCO 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
J    MONTGOMERY  GAMBRILL 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


OSt          isher 

EDUCATION  DEFT. 


ZCfte   gtbenaeum 

GINN  AND  COMPANY  •  PRO 
PRIETORS  •  BOSTON  •  U.S.A. 


INSCRIBED  TO 
THE  POE  AND  LOWELL  LITERARY  SOCIETIES 

OF  THE 
BALTIMORE  POLYTECHNIC   INSTITUTE 


563724 


PREFACE 


Edgar  Allan  Poe  has  been  the  subject  of  so  much  controversy 
that  he  is  the  one  American  writer  whom  high-school  pupils 
(not  to  mention  teachers)  are  likely  to  approach  with  ready- 
made  prejudices.  It  is  impossible  to  treat  such  a  subject  in 
quite  the  ordinary  matter-of-course  way.  Furthermore,  his 
writings  are  so  highly  subjective,  and  so  intimately  connected 
with  his  strongly  held  critical  theories,  as  to  need  somewhat 
careful  and  extended  study.  These  facts  make  it  very  difficult 
to  treat  either  the  man  or  his  art  as  simply  as  is  desirable  in  a 
secondary  text-book.  Consequently  the  Introduction  is  longer 
and  less  simple  than  the  editor  would  desire  for  the  usual 
text.  It  is  believed,  however,  that  the  teacher  can  take  up 
this  Introduction  with  the  pupil  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
it  helpful,  significant,  and  interesting. 

The  text  of  the  following  poems  and  tales  is  that  of  the 
Stedman-Woodberry  edition  (described  in  the  Bibliography, 
p.  xxx),  and  the  selections  are  reprinted  by  permission  of  the 
publishers,  Duffield  &  Company ;  this  text  is  followed  exactly 
except  for  a  very  few  changes  in  punctuation,  not  more  than 
five  or  six  in  all.  My  obligations  to  other  works  are  too  numer 
ous  to  mention  ;  all  the  publications  included  in  the  Bibliogra 
phy,  besides  a  number  of  others,  have  been  examined,  but  I 
especially  desire  to  acknowledge  the  courtesy  of  Dr.  Henry 
Barton  Jacobs  of  Baltimore,  who  sent  me  from  Paris  a  copy 
of  fimile  Lauvriere's  interesting  and  important  study,  "  Edgar 
Poe  :  Sa  vie  et  son  oeuvre  ;  £tude  de  psychologic  pathologique." 
To  my  wife  I  am  indebted  for  valuable  assistance  in  the  tedi 
ous  work  of  reading  proofs  and  verifying  the  text,  j  M  G 

vii 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PREFACE       .        .        . 

INTRODUCTION      .        .        .        .... 

xi 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  .        .—     .        .        .        .        .        .        . 

.    XXX 

POEMS 

SONG     .     '   .        .        .        .        ....        .        .    - 

3 

SPIRITS  OF  THE  DEAD     ....       •        • 

•      3 

To  -              .        .        .        .        .        .        . 

4 

ROMANCE          .        .        .        .        .        ... 

•     5 

To  THE  RIVER  -     •    .        .        .        .     \  .        .        . 

5 

To  SCIENCE      .        ...        .        .      '»•"-%  •        • 

.      6 

To  HELEN    .        .        .        .       '.-    '  Tr  -  ,v-  —  •  . 

7 

ISRAFEL       .           .           .           .           .           ^           .            . 

.      7 

THE  CITY  IN  THE  SEA        .                .        . 

9 

THE  SLEEPER  

1  1 

LENORE         '      . 

J3 

THE  VALLEY  OF  UNREST        

•     M 

THE  COLISEUM     .        

i5 

HYMN        .        .                 

16 

To  ONE  IN  PARADISE          

17 

To  F—              ......... 

.     18 

To  F        s  S.  0        D          .        .        .        .        .  -  '    . 

.        18 

To  ZANTE         .        .        .        ...        .        .        . 

.     18 

BRIDAL  BALLAD    .        ,        .        .                 .        . 

19 

SILENCE    

°o 

THE  CONQUEROR  WORM     ...... 

21 

DREAM-LAND    .        .        

.       22 

THE  RAVEN          .        .        .        .        .        ... 

24 

ElJLALIE     

29 

To  M.  L.  S  . 

30 

ix 


SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 


ULALUME          
To  

PAGE 
•     3° 

AN  ENIGMA      

.     34 

To  HELEN    

35 

A  VALENTINE  

•     37 

FOR  ANNIE  

37 

THE  BELLS       

.     41 

ANNABEL  LEE      

44 

To  MY  MOTHER       

...     46 

ELDORADO     

.         .         .         .          46 

THE  HAUNTED  PALACE  .... 

.     59 

TALES 

THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  USHER 

49 

WILLIAM  WILSON    

.     71 

A  DESCENT  INTO  THE  MAELSTROM    . 

94 

THE  MASQUE  OF  THE  RED  DEATH 

.  1  13 

THE  GOLD-BUG     

120 

.  160 

NOTES 

181 

INTRODUCTION 

EDGAR  ALLAN   POE :    HIS   LIFE,  CHARACTER, 
AND  ART 

Edgar  Allan  Poe  is  in  many  respects  the  most  fascinating 
figure  in  American  literature.  His  life,  touched  by  the  ex 
tremes  of  fortune,  was  on  the  whole  more  unhappy  than  that 
of  any  other  of  our  prominent  men  of  letters.  His  character 
was  strangely  complex,  and  was  the  subject  of  misunderstand 
ing  during  his  life  and  of  heated  dispute  after  his  death ;  his 
writings  were  long  neglected  or  disparaged  at  home,  while 
accepted  abroad  as  our  greatest  literary  achievement.  Now, 
after  more  than  half  a  century  has  elapsed  since  his  death, 
careful  biographers  have  furnished  a  tolerably  full  account  of 
the  real  facts  about  his  life ;  a  fairly  accurate  idea  of  his  char 
acter  is  winning  general  acceptance  ;  and  the  name  of  Edgar 
Allan  Poe  has  been  conceded  a  place  among  the  two  or  three 
greatest  in  our  literature. 

LIFE  AND  CHARACTER 

In  December,  1811,  a  well-known  actress  of  the  time  died 
in  Richmond,  leaving  destitute  three  little  children,  the  eldest 
but  four  years  of  age.  This  mother,  who  was  Elizabeth  (Arnold) 
Poe,  daughter  of  an  English  actress,  had  suffered  from  ill 
health  for  several  years  and  had  long  found  the  struggle  for 
existence  difficult.  Her  husband,  David  Poe,  probably  died 
before  her ;  he  was  a  son  of  General  David  Poe,  a  Revolu 
tionary  veteran  of  Baltimore,  and  had  left  his  home  and  law 
books  for  the  stage  several  years  before  his  marriage.  The 

xi 


xii  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

second  of  the  three  children,  born  January  19,  1809,  in 
Boston,  where  his  parents  happened  to  be  playing  at  the  time, 
was  Edgar  Poe,  the  future  poet  and  story- writer.  The  little 
Edgar  was  adopted  by  the  wife  of  Mr.  John  Allan,  a  well-to-do 
Scotch  merchant  of  the  city,  who  later  became  wealthy,  and 
the  boy  was  thereafter  known  as  Edgar  Allan  Poe.  He  was  a 
beautiful  and  precocious  child,  who  at  six  years  of  age  could 
read,  draw,  dance,  and  declaim  the  best  poetry  with  fine 
effect  and  appreciation ;  report  says,  also,  that  he  had  been 
taught  to  stand  on  a  chair  and  pledge  Mr.  Allan's  guests  in  a 
glass  of  wine  with  "roguish  grace." 

In  1815  Mr.  Allan  went  to  England,  where  he  remained 
five  years.  Edgar  was  placed  in  an  old  English  school  in  the 
suburbs  of  London,  among  historic,  literary,  and  antiquarian 
associations,  and  possibly  was  taken  to  the  Continent  by  his 
foster  parents  at  vacation  seasons.  The  English  residence  and 
the  sea  voyages  left  deep  impressions  on  the  boy's  sensitive 
nature.  Returning  to  Richmond,  he  was  prepared  in  good 
schools  for  the  University  of  Virginia,  which  he  entered  at 
the  age  of  seventeen,  pursuing  studies  in  ancient  and  modern 
languages  and  literatures.  During  this  youthful  period  he  was 
already  developing  a  striking  and  peculiar  personality.  He 
was  brilliant,  if  not  industrious,  as  a  student,  leaving  the 
University  with  highest  honors  in  Latin  and  French ;  he  was 
quick  and  nervous  in  his  movements  and  greatly  excelled  in 
athletics,  especially  in  swimming;  in  character,  he  was  re 
served,  solitary,  sensitive,  and  given  to  lonely  reverie.  Some 
of  his  aristocratic  playmates  remembered  to  fiis  discredit  that 
he  was  the  child  of  strolling  players,  and  their  attitude  helped 
to  add  a  strain  of  defiance  to  an  already  intensely  proud 
nature.  Though  kindly  treated  by  his  foster  parents,  this 
strange  boy  longed  for  an  understanding  sympathy  that  was 
not  his.  Once  he  thought  he  had  found  it  in  Mrs.  Jane 
Stannard,  mother  of  a  schoolmate ;  but  the  new  friend  soon 
died,  and  for  months  the  grief- stricken  boy,  it  is  said,  haunted 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

the  lonely  grave  at  night  and  brooded  over  his  loss  and  the 
mystery  of  death  —  a  not  very  wholesome  experience  for  a 
lonely  and  melancholy  lad  of  fifteen  years. 

At  the  University  he  drank  wine,  though  not  intemperately, 
and  played  cards  a  great  deal,  the  end  of  the  term  finding 
him  with  gambling  debts  of  twenty-five  hundred  dollars.  These 
habits  were  common  at  the  time,  and  Edgar  did  not  incur  any 
censure  from  the  faculty ;  but  Mr.  Allan  declined  to  honor  the 
gambling  debt,  removed  Edgar,  and  placed  him  in  his  own 
counting  room.  Such  a  life  was  too  dull  for  the  high-spirited, 
poetic  youth,  and  he  promptly  left  his  home. 

Going  to  Boston,  he  published  a  thin  volume  of  boyish 
verse,  "Tamerlane,  and  Other  Poems,"  but  realizing  nothing 
financially,1  he  enlisted  in  the  United  States  Army  as  Edgar 
A.  Perry.  After  two  years  of  faithful  and  efficient  service,  he 
procured  through  Mr.  Allan  (who  was  temporarily  reconciled 
to  him)  an  appointment  to  the  West  Point  Military  Academy, 
entering  in  July,  1830.  In  the  meantime,  he  had  published 
in  Baltimore  a  second  small  volume  of  poems.  Fellow-students 
have  described  him  as  having  a  "  worn,  weary,  discontented 
look";  usually  kindly  and  courteous,  but  shy,  reserved,  and 
exceedingly  sensitive ;  an  extraordinary  reader,  but  noted  for 
carping  criticism.  Although  a  good  student,  he  seemed  galled 
beyond  endurance  by  the  monotonous  routine  of  military 
duties,  which  he  deliberately  neglected  and  thus  procured  his 
dismissal  from  the  Academy.  He  left,  alone  and  penniless,  in 
March,  1831. 

Going  to  New  York,  Poe  brought  out  another  little  volume 
of  poems  showing  great  improvement ;  then  he  went  to  Balti 
more,  and  after  a  precarious  struggle  of  a  year  or  two,  turned 
to  prose,  and,  while  in  great  poverty,  won  a  prize  of  one  hun 
dred  dollars  from  the  Baltimore  Saturday  Visiter  for  his  story, 

1  In  November,  1900,  a  single  copy  of  this  little  volume  sold  in 
New  York  for  $2550. 


xiv  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

"  The  Manuscript  Found  in  a  Bottle."  Through  John  P.  Ken 
nedy,1  one  of  the  judges  whose  friendship  the  poverty-stricken 
author  gained,  he  procured  a  good  deal  of  hack  work,  and  finally 
an  editorial  position  on  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  of 
Richmond.  The  salary  was  fair,  and  better  was  in  sight ;  yet 
Poe  was  melancholy,  dissatisfied,  and  miserable.  He  wrote  a 
pitiable  letter  to  Mr.  Kennedy,  asking  to  be  convinced  "  that 
it  is  at  all  necessary  to  live." 

For  several  years  he  had  been  making  his  home  with  an 
aunt,  Mrs.  Clemm,  and  her  daughter,  Virginia,  a  girl  beautiful 
in  character  and  person,  but  penniless  and  probably  already  a 
victim  of  the  consumption  that  was  eventually  to  cause  her 
death.  In  1836,  when  she  was  only  fourteen  years  old,  Poe 
married  his  cousin,  to  whom  he  was  passionately  attached.  His 
devotion  to  her  lasted  through  life,  and  the  tenderest  affection 
existed  between  him  and  Mrs.  Clemm,  who  was  all  a  mother 
could  have  been  to  him ;  so  that  the  home  life  was  always 
beautiful  in  spirit,  however  poor  in  material  comfort. 

In  January,  1837,  his  connection  with  the  Messenger  was 
severed,  probably  because  of  his  occasional  lapses  from  sobri 
ety  ;  but  his  unfortunate  temperament  and  his  restless  ambition 
were  doubtless  factors.  With  some  reputation  as  poet,  story- 
writer,  critic,  and  editor,  Poe  removed  to  New  York,  and  a 
year  later  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  remained  until  1844. 
Here  he  found  miscellaneous  literary,  editorial,  and  hack  work, 
finally  becoming  editor  of  Graham's  Magazine ',  which  pros 
pered  greatly  under  his  management,  increasing  its  circulation 
from  eight  thousand  to  forty  thousand  within  a  year.  But 
Poe's  restless  spirit  was  dissatisfied.  He  was  intensely  anxious 
to  own  a  magazine  for  himself,  and  had  already  made  several 
unsuccessful  efforts  to  obtain  one,  —  efforts  which  were  to  be 
repeated  at  intervals,  and  with  as  little  success,  until  the  day 

1  A  well-known  Marylander,  author  of  "  Horse-Shoe  Robinson/' 
"  Swallow  Barn,"  "  Rob  of  the  Bowl,"  and  other  popular  novels  of  the 
day,  and  later  Secretary  of  the  Navy. 


INTRODUCTION  XV 

of  his  death.  He  vainly  sought  a  government  position,  that  a 
livelihood  might  be  assured  while  he  carried  out  his  literary 
plans.  Finally  he  left  Graham's,  doubtless  because  of  personal 
peculiarities,  since  his  occasional  inebriety  did  not  interfere 
with  his  work ;  and  there  followed  a  period  of  wretched  pov 
erty,  broken  once  by  the  winning  of  a  prize  of  one  hundred 
dollars  for  "The  Gold  Bug." 

He  continued  to  be  known  as  a  "  reserved,  isolated,  dreamy 
man,  of  high-strung  nerves,  proud  spirit,  and  fantastic  moods," 
with  a  haunting  sense  of  impending  evil.  His  home  was  poor 
and  simple,  but  impressed  every  visitor  by  its  neatness  and 
quiet  refinement;  Virginia,  accomplished  in  music  and  lan 
guages,  was  as  devoted  to  her  husband  as  he  was  to  her.  Both 
were  fond  of  flowers  and  plants,  and  of  household  pets.  Mrs. 
Clemm  gave  herself  completely  to  her  "  children  "  and  was 
the  business  manager  of  the  family. 

In  the  spring  of  1 844  Poe  went  with  Virginia  to  New  York, 
practically  penniless,  and  to  Mrs.  Clemm,  who  did  not  come 
at  once,  he  wrote  with  pathetic  enthusiasm  of  the  generous 
meals  served  at  their  boarding  house.  He  obtained  a  position 
on  the  Evening  Mirror  at  small  pay,  but  did  his  dull  work 
faithfully  and  efficiently ;  later,  he  became  editor  of  the 
Broadway  Journal,  in  which  he  printed  revisions  of  his  best 
tales  and  poems.  In  1845  appeared  "The  Raven,"  which  cre 
ated  a  profound  sensation  at  home  and  abroad,  and  immediately 
won,  and  has  since  retained,  an  immense  popularity.  He  was 
at  the  height  of  his  fame,  but  poor,  as  always.  In  1846  he  pub 
lished  "The  Literati,"  critical  comments  on  the  writers  of  the 
day,  in  which  the  literary  small  fry  were  mercilessly  condemned 
and  ridiculed.  This  naturally  made  Poe  a  host  of  enemies.  One 
of  these,  Thomas  Dunn  English,  published  an  abusive  article 
attacking  the  author's  character,  whereupon  Poe  sued  him  for 
libel  and  obtained  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  damages. 

The  family  now  moved  to  a  little  three-room  cottage  at 
Fordham,  a  quiet  country  place  with  flowers  and  trees  and 


xvi  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

pleasant  vistas ;  but  illness  and  poverty  were  soon  there,  too. 
In  1841  Virginia  had  burst  a  blood  vessel  while  singing,  and 
her  life  was  despaired  of ;  this  had  happened  again  and  again, 
leaving  her  weaker  each  time.  As  the  summer  and  fall  of  this 
year  wore  away,  she  grew  worse  and  needed  the  tenderest  care 
and  attention.  But  winter  drew  on,  and  with  it  came  cold  and 
hunger ;  the  sick  girl  lay  in  an  unheated  room  on  a  straw  bed, 
wrapped  in  her  husband's  coat,  the  husband  and  mother  try 
ing  to  chafe  a  little  warmth  into  her  hands  and  feet.  Some 
kind-hearted  women  relieved  the  distress  in  a  measure,  but  on 
January  30,  1847,  Virginia  died.  The  effect  on  Poe  was 
terrible.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  a  very  artist  of  death,  who 
could  study  the  dreadful  stages  of  its  slow  approach  and  seek 
to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  its  ultimate  nature  with  such 
intense  interest  and  deep  reflection  as  did  Poe,  must  have 
brooded  and  suffered  during  the  years  of  his  wife's  illness. 
His  own  health  had  long  been  poor;  his  brain  was  diseased 
and  insanity  seemed  imminent.  After  intense  grief  came  a 
period  of  settled  gloom  and  haunting  fear.  The  less  than 
three  years  of  life  left  for  him  was  a  period  of  decline  in 
every  respect.  But  he  remained  in  the  little  cottage,  finding 
some  comfort  in  caring  for  his  flowers  and  pets,  and  taking 
long  solitary  rambles.  During  this  time  he  thought  out  and 
wrote  "  Eureka,"  a  treatise  on  the  structure,  laws,  and  destiny 
of  the  universe,  which  he  desired  to  have  regarded  as  a  poem. 
Poe  had  always  felt  a  need  for  the  companionship  of  sympa 
thetic  and  affectionate  women,  for  whom  he  entertained  a 
chivalric  regard  amounting  to  reverence.  After  the  shock  of 
his  wife's  death  had  somewhat  worn  away,  he  began  to  depend 
for  sympathy  upon  various  women  with  whom  he  maintained 
romantic  friendships.  Judged  by  ordinary  standards,  his  con 
duct  became  at  times  little  short  of  maudlin ;  his  correspond 
ence  showed  a  sort  of  gasping,  frantic  dependence  upon 
the  sympathy  and  consolation  of  these  women  friends,  and 
exhibited  a  painful  picture  of  a  broken  man.  Mrs.  Shew,  one 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

of  the  kind  women  who  had  relieved  the  family  at  the  time  of 
Virginia's  last  illness,  strongly  advised  him  to  marry,  and  he 
did  propose  marriage  to  Mrs.  Sara  Helen  Whitman,  a  verse 
writer  of  some  note  in  her  day.  After  a  wild  and  exhausting 
wooing,  begun  in  an  extravagantly  romantic  manner,  the 
match  was  broken  off  through  the  influence  of  the  lady's 
friends.  When  it  was  all  over  Poe  seemed  very  little  dis 
turbed.  The  truth  is,  he  was  a  wreck,  and  feeling  utterly 
dependent,  clutched  frantically  at  every  hope  of  sympathy 
and  consolation.  His  only  real  love  was  for  his  dead  wife, 
which  he  recorded  shortly  before  his  death  in  the  exquisite 
lyric,  "Annabel  Lee." 

In  July,  1849,  full  of  the  darkest  forebodings,  and  predict 
ing  that  he  should  never  return,  Poe  went  to  Richmond. 
Here  he  spent  a  few  quiet  months,  part  of  the  time  fairly 
cheerful,  but  twice  yielding  to  the  temptation  to  drink,  and 
each  time  suffering,  in  consequence,  a  dangerous  illness.  On 
September  30  he  left  Richmond  for  New  York  with  fifteen  hun 
dred  dollars,  the  product  of  a  recent  lecture  arranged  by  kind 
Richmond  friends.  What  happened  during  the  next  three  days 
is  an  impenetrable  mystery,  but  on  October  3  (Wednesday)  he 
was  found  in  an  election  booth  in  Baltimore,  desperately  ill, 
his  money  and  baggage  gone.  The  most  probable  story  is 
that  he  had  been  drugged  by  political  workers,  imprisoned  in 
a  "  coop  "  with  similar  victims,  and  used  as  a  repeater,1  this 
procedure  being  a  common  one  at  the  time.  WThether  he  was 
also  intoxicated  is  a  matter  of  doubt.  There  could  be  but 
one  effect  on  his  delicate  and  already  diseased  brain.  He  was 
taken  to  a  hospital  unconscious,  lingered  several  days  in  the 
delirium  of  a  violent  brain  fever,  and  in  the  early  dawn  of 
Sunday,  October  7,  breathed  his  last. 

The  dead  author's  character  immediately  became  the  sub 
ject  of  violent  controversy.  His  severe  critical  strictures  had 
made  him  many  enemies  among  the  minor  writers  of  the  day 
1  Repeater,  a  person  who  illegally  votes  more  than  once. 


xviii  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

and  their  friends.  One  of  the  men  who  had  suffered  from 
Poe's  too  caustic  pen  was  Rufus  W.  Griswold,  but  friendly 
relations  had  been  nominally  established  and  Poe  had  author 
ized  Griswold  to  edit  his  works.  This  Griswold  did,  including 
a  biography  which  Poe's  friends  declared  a  masterpiece  of 
malicious  distortion  and  misrepresentation ;  it  certainly  was 
grossly  unfair  and  inaccurate.  Poe's  friends  retorted,  and  a 
long  war  of  words  followed,  in  which  hatred  or  prejudice  on 
the  one  side  and  wholesale,  undiscriminating  laudation  on  the 
other,  alike  tended  to  obscure  the  truth.  It  is  now  almost 
impossible  to  see  the  real  Poe,  just  as  he  appeared  to  an  ordi 
nary,  unprejudiced  observer  of  his  own  time.  Only  by  the 
most  careful,  thoughtful,  and  sympathetic  study  can  we  hope 
to  approximate  such  an  acquaintance. 

The  fundamental  fact  about  Poe  is  a  very  peculiar  and 
unhappy  temperament,  certain  characteristic  qualities  of  which 
began  to  disclose  themselves  in  early  boyhood  and,  fostered 
by  the  vicissitudes  of  his  career,  developed  throughout  his  life. 

In  youth  he  was  nervous,  sensitive,  morbid,  proud,  solitary, 
and  wayward  ;  and  as  the  years  went  by,  bringing  poverty,  ill 
ness,  and  the  bitterness  of  failure,  often  through  his  own  faults, 
the  man  became  irritable,  impatient,  often  morose.  He  had 
always  suffered  from  fits  of  depression,  —  "  blue  devils,"  Mr. 
Kennedy  called  them,  —  and  though  he  was  extravagantly  san 
guine  at  times,  melancholy  was  his  usual  mood,  often  manifesting 
itself  in  a  haunting  fear  of  evil  to  come.  The  peculiar  charac 
ter  of  his  wonderful  imagination  made  actual  life  less  real  to 
him  than  his  own  land  of  dreams  :  the  "  distant  Aidenn,"  the 
"dim  lake  of  Auber,"  the  "  kingdom  by  the  sea,"  seemed  more 
genuine  than  the  landscapes  of  earth ;  the  lurid  "  city  in  the 
sea  "  more  substantial  than  the  streets  he  daily  walked. 

Because  of  this  intensely  subjective  and  self-absorbed  char 
acter  of  mind,  he  had  no  understanding  of  human  nature,  no 
insight  into  character  with  its  marvelous  complexities  and  con 
tradictions.  With  these  limitations  Poe,  as  might  be  expected, 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

had  a  very  defective  sense  of  humor,  lacked  true  sympathy, 
was  tactless,  possessed  little  business  ability,  and  was  excess 
ively  annoyed  by  the  dull  routine  and  rude  frictions  of  ordi 
nary  life.  He  was  always  touched  by  kindness,  but  was  quick 
to  resent  an  injury,  and  even  as  a  boy  could  not  endure  a  jest 
at  his  expense.  He  had  many  warm  and  devoted  friends  whom 
he  loved  in  return,  but  the  limitations  of  his  own  nature  prob 
ably  made  a  really  frank,  unreserved  friendship  impossible ; 
and  when  a  break  occurred,  he  was  apt  to  assume  that  his 
former  friend  was  an  utter  villain.  These  personal  character 
istics,  in  conjunction  with  a  goading  ambition  which  took  form 
in  the  idea  of  an  independent  journal  of  his  own  in  which  he 
might  find  untrammeled  expression,  added  uneasiness  and  rest 
lessness  to  a  constantly  discontented  nature.  To  some  extent, 
at  least,  Poe  realized  the  curse  of  such  a  temperament,  but  he 
strove  vainly  against  its  impulses. 

The  one  genuine  human  happiness  of  this  sad  life  was  found 
in  a  singularly  beautiful  home  atmosphere.  Husband  and  wife 
were  passionately  devoted  to  each  other,  and  Mrs.  Clemm  was 
more  than  a  mother  to  both.  She  says  of  her  son-in-law  :  "  At 
home,  he  was  simple  and  affectionate  as  a  child,  and  during 
all  the  years  he  lived  with  me,  I  do  not  remember  a  single 
night  that  he  failed  to  come  and  kiss  his  '  mother,'  as  he  called 
me,  before  going  to  bed."  This  faithful  woman  remained 
devoted  to  him  after  Virginia's  death,  and  to  his  memory,  when 
calumny  assailed  it,  after  his  own. 

The  capital  charge  against  Poe's  character  has  been  intem 
perance,  and  although  the  matter  has  been  grossly  exaggerated 
and  misrepresented,  the  charge  is  true.  Except  for  short 
periods,  he  was  never  what  is  known  as  dissipated,  and  he 
struggled  desperately  against  his  weakness,  —  an  unequal  strug 
gle,  since  the  craving  was  inherited,  and  fostered  by  environ 
ment,  circumstances,  and  temperament.  One  of  his  biographers 
tells  of  bread  soaked  in  gin  being  fed  to  the  little  Poe  children 
by  an  old  nurse  during  the  illness  of  their  mother  ;  and  there 


XX  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

is  another  story,  already  mentioned,  of  the  little  Edgar,  in  his 
adoptive  home,  taught  to  pledge  the  guests  as  a  social  grace. 
Drinking  was  common  at  the  time,  wine  was  offered  in  every 
home  and  at  every  social  function,  and  in  the  South,  where 
Poe  spent  his  youth  and  early  manhood,  the  spirit  of  hospi 
tality  and  conviviality  held  out  constant  temptation.  To  his 
delicate  organization  strong  drink  early  became  a  veritable 
poison,  and  indulgence  that  would  have  been  a  small  matter 
to  another  man  was  ruinous  to  him  ;  indeed,  a  single  glass  of 
wine  drove  him  practically  insane,  and  a  debauch  was  sure  to 
follow.  Indulgence  was  stimulated,  also,  by  the  nervous  strain 
and  worry  induced  by  uncertain  livelihood  and  privation,  the 
frequent  fits  of  depression,  and  by  constant  brooding.  Some 
times  he  fought  his  weakness  successfully  for  several  years,  but 
always  it  conquered  in  the  end. 

Moreover,  he  speaks  of  a  very  special  cause  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life,  which  in  fairness  should  be  heard  in  his  own 
written  words  to  a  friend  :  "Six  years  ago  a  wife,  whom  I  loved 
as  no  man  ever  loved  before,'  ruptured  a  blood  vessel  in  sing 
ing.  Her  life  was  despaired  of.  I  took  leave  of  her  forever 
and  underwent  all  the  agonies  of  her  death.  She  recovered 
partially  and  I  again  hoped.  At  the  end  of  a  year  the  vessel 
broke  again.  I  went  through  precisely  the  same  scene.  .  .  . 
Then  again  —  again  —  and  even  once  again,  at  varying  inter 
vals.  Each  time  I  felt  all  the  agonies  of  her  death  —  and 
at  each  accession  of  her  disorder  I  loved  her  more  dearly  and 
clung  to  her  life  with  more  desperate  pertinacity.  But  I  am 
constitutionally  sensitive  —  nervous  in  a  very  unusual  degree. 
I  became  insane,  with  long  intervals  of  horrible  sanity.  During 
these  fits  of  absolute  unconsciousness,  I  drank  —  God  only 
knows  how  often  or  how  much.  As  a  matter  of  course,  my 
enemies  referred  the  insanity  to  the  drink,  rather  than  the 
drink  to  the  insanity.  ...  It  was  the  horrible  never-ending 
oscillation  between  hope  and  despair,  which  I  could  not  longer 
have  endured  without  total  loss  of  reason.  In  the  death  of 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

what  was  my  life,  then,  I  received  a  new,  but  —  O  God  !  — 
how  melancholy  an  existence  !  " 

This  statement,  and  the  other  facts  mentioned,  are  not 
offered  as  wholly  excusing  Poe.  Doubtless  a  stronger  man 
would  have  resisted,  doubtless  a  less  self-absorbed  man  would 
have  thought  of  his  wife's  happiness  as  well  as  of  his  own 
relief  from  torture.  Yet  the  fair-minded  person,  familiar  with 
Poe's  unhappy  life,  and  keeping  in  mind  the  influences  of 
heredity,  temperament,  and  environment,  will  hesitate  to  pro 
nounce  a  severe  judgment. 

Poe  was  also  accused  of  un truthfulness,  and  this  accusation 
likewise  has  a  basis  of  fact.  He  repeatedly  furnished  or 
approved  statements  regarding  his  life  and  work  that  were 
incorrect,  he  often  made  a  disingenuous m  show  of  pretended 
learning,  and  he  sometimes  misstated  facts  to  avoid  wounding 
his  own  vanity.  This  ugly  fault  seems  to  have  resulted  from  a 
fondness  for  romantic  posing,  and  is  doubtless  related  to  the 
peculiar  character  of  imagination  already  mentioned.  Perhaps, 
too,  he  inherited  from  his  actor  parents  a  love  of  applause, 
and  if  so,  the  trait  was  certainly  encouraged  in  early  childhood. 
There  is  no  evidence  that  he  was  ever  guilty  of  malicious  or 
mercenary  falsehood. 

Another  of  his  bad  habits  was  borrowing,  but  it  must  be 
remembered  that  his  life  was  one  long  struggle  with  grinding 
poverty,  that  he  and  those  dear  to  him  sometimes  suffered 
actual  hunger  and  cold.  Many  who  knew  him  testified  to  his 
anxiety  to  pay  all  his  debts,  Mr.  Graham  referring  to  him  in 
this  particular  as  "  the  soul  of  honor." 

In  a  letter  to  Lowell,  Poe  has  well  described  himself  in  a 
sentence:  "My  life  has  been  whim  —  impulse  —  passion  — 
a  longing  for  solitude  —  a  scorn  of  all  things  present  in  an 
earnest  desire  for  the  future."  Interpreted,  this  means  that  in 
a  sense  he  never  really  reached  maturity,  that  he  remained  a 
slave  to  his  impulses  and  emotions,  that  he  detested  the  ordi 
nary  business  of  life  and  could  not  adapt  himself  to  it,  that  his 


xxii  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

mind  was  full  of  dreams  of  ideal  beauty  and  perfection,  that 
his  whole  soul  yearned  to  attain  the  highest  pleasures  of  artis 
tic  creation.  His  was  perpetually  a  deeply  agitated  soul ;  as 
such,  it  was  natural  he  should  outwardly  seem  irritable,  impa 
tient,  restless,  discontented,  and  solitary.  It  is  impossible  to 
believe  that  there  was  any  strain  of  real  evil  in  Poe.  A  man 
who  could  inspire  such  devotion  as  he  had  from  such  a  woman 
as  Mrs.  Clemm,  a  man  who  loved  flowers  and  children  and 
animal  pets,  who  could  be  so  devoted  a  husband,  who  could 
so  consecrate  himself  to  art,  was  not  a  bad  man.  Yet  his  acts 
were  often,  as  we  have  seen,  most  reprehensible.  Frequently 
the  subject  of  slander,  he  was  not  a  victim  of  conspiracy  to 
defame.  Although  circumstances  were  many  times  against 
him,  he  was  his  own  worst  enemy.  He  was  cursed  with  a  tem 
perament.  His  mind  was  analytical  and  imaginative,  and  gave 
no  thought  to  the  ethical.  He  remained  wayward  as  a  child. 
The  man,  like  his  art,  was  not  immoral,  but  simply  unmoral. 
Whatever  his  faults,  he  suffered  frightfully  for  them,  and  his 
fame  suffered  after  him. 

LITERARY  WORK 

Poe's  first  literary  ventures  were  in  verse.  The  early  volumes, 
showing  strongly  the  influence  of  Byron  and  Moore,  were  pro 
ductions  of  small  merit  but  large  promise.  Their  author  was 
soon  to  become  one  of  the  most  original  of  poets,  his  later 
work  being  unique,  with  a  strangely  individual,  "  Poe  "  atmos 
phere  that  no  other  writer  has  ever  been  able  successfully  to 
imitate.  His  verse  is  individual  in  theme,  treatment,  and 
structure,  all  of  which  harmonize  with  his  conscious  theory  of 
poetic  art.  His  theory  is  briefly  this  :  It  is  not  the  function  of 
poetry  to  teach  either  truth  or  morals,  but  to  gratify  through 
novel  forms  "  the  thirst  for  supernal  beauty "  ;  its  proper 
effect  is  to  "  excite,  by  elevating,  the  soul."  The  highest 
beauty  has  always  some  admixture  of  sadness,  the  most  poetical 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

of  all  themes  being  the  death  of  a  beautiful  woman.  More 
over,  the  pleasure  derived  from  the  contemplation  of  this 
higher  beauty  should  be  indefinite ;  that  is,  true  poetic  feel 
ing  is  not  the  result  of  coherent  narrative  or  clear  pictures  or 
fine  moral  sentiment,  but  consists  in  vague,  exalted  emotion. 
Music,  of  all  the  arts,  produces  the  vaguest  and  most  "  indefi 
nite  "  pleasure ;  consequently  verse  forms  should  be  chosen 
with  the  greatest  possible  attention  to  musical  effect.  Poetry 
must  be  purely  a  matter  of  feeling.  "  Its  sole  arbiter  is  Taste. 
With  the  Intellect  or  with  the  Conscience  it  has  only  collateral 
relations." 

This  explanation  is  necessary,  because  the  stock  criticism  of 
Poe's  poetry  condemns  it  as  vague,  indefinite,  and  devoid  of 
thought  or  ethical  content.  These  are  precisely  its  limitations, 
but  hardly  its  faults,  since  the  poet  attained  with  marvelous 
art  the  very  effects  he  desired.  The  themes  of  nearly  all  the 
poems  are  death,  ruin,  regret,  or  failure  ;  the  verse  is  original 
in  form,  and  among  the  most  musical  in  the  language,  full  of 
a  haunting,  almost  magical  melody.  Mystery,  symbolism, 
shadowy  suggestion,  fugitive  thought,  elusive  beauty,  beings 
that  are  mere  insubstantial  abstractions  —  these  are  "the  char 
acteristics,  but  designedly  so,  of  Poe's  poetry.  A  poem  to  him 
was  simply  a  crystallized  mood,  and  it  is  futile  for  his  readers 
to  apply  any  other  test.  Yet  the  influence  of  this  verse  has 
been  wide  and  important,  extending  to  most  lyric  poets  of  the 
last  half-century,  including  such  masters  as  Rossetti  and 
Swinburne. 

"  To  Helen,"  a  poem  of  three  brief  stanzas,  is  Poe's  first  really 
notable  production  \  it  is  an  exquisite  tribute  of  his  reverent 
devotion  to  his  boyhood  friend,  Mrs.  Stannard,  portraying  her 
as  a  classic  embodiment  of  beauty.  "  Israfel  "  is  a  lyric  of 
aspiration  of  rare  power  and  rapture,  worthy  of  Shelley,  and  is 
withal  the  most  spontaneous,  simple,  and  genuinely  human 
poem  Poe  ever  wrote.  "The  Haunted  Palace,"  one  of  the 
finest  of  his  poems,  is  an  unequaled  allegory  of  the  wreck  and 


xxiv  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

ruin  of  sovereign  reason,  which  to  be  fully  appreciated  should  be 
read  in  its  somber  setting,  "  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher." 
Less  attractive  is  "  The  Conqueror  Worm,"  with  its  repulsive 
imagery,  but  this  "tragedy  'Man,'"  with  the  universe  as  a 
theater,  moving  to  the  "  music  of  the  spheres,"  and  "  horror  the 
soul  of  the  plot,"  is  undeniably  powerful  and  intensely  terrible. 

"The  Raven,"  published  in  1845,  attained  immediately  a 
world-wide  celebrity,  and  rivals  in  fame  and  popularity  any 
lyric  ever  written.  It  is  the  most  elaborate  treatment  of  Poe's 
favorite  theme,  the  death  of  a  beautiful  woman.  The  reveries 
of  a  bereaved  lover,  alone  in  his  library  at  midnight  in  "  the 
bleak  December,"  vainly  seeking  to  forget  his  sorrow  for  the 
"  lost  Lenore,"  are  interrupted  by  a  tapping,  as  of  some  one 
desirous  to  enter.  After  a  time,  he  admits  a  "  stately  raven  " 
and  seeks  to  beguile  his  sad  fancy  by  putting  questions  to  the 
bird,  whose  one  reply  is  "  Nevermore,"  and  this  constitutes 
the  refrain  of  the  poem.  Impelled  by  an  instinct  of  self- 
torture,  the  lover  asks  whether  he  shall  have  "  respite  "  from 
the  painful  memories  of  "  Lenore,"  here  or  hereafter,  and 
finally  whether  in  the  "  distant  Aidenn  "  he  and  his  love  shall 
be  reunited  ;  to  all  of  which  the  raven  returns  his  one  answer. 
Driven  to  frenzy,  the  lover  implores  the  bird,  "  Take  thy  beak 
from  out  my  heart,  and  take  thy  form  from  off  my  door,"  only 
to  learn  that  the  shadow  will  be  lifted  "nevermore."  The 
raven  is,  in  the  poet's  own  words,  "  emblematical  of  Mournful 
and  Never- Ending  Remembrance." 

"  Ulalume  "  has  been  commonly  (though  not  always)  regarded 
as  a  mere  experiment  in  verbal  ingenuity,  meaningless  melody, 
or  "  the  insanity  of  versification,"  as  a  distinguished  American 
critic  has  called  it.  Such  a  judgment  is  a  mark  of  inability 
to  understand  Poe's  most  characteristic  work,  for  in  truth 
"  Ulalume  "  is  the  extreme  expression  at  once  of  his  critical 
theory  and  of  his  peculiar  genius  as  a  poet.  It  was  published 
in  December  of  the  same  year  in  which  Virginia  died  in 
January.  The  poet's  condition  has  already  been  described  ; 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

"  Ulalume  "  is  a  marvelous  expression  of  his  mood  at  this  time. 
It  depicts  a  soul  worn  out  by  long  suffering,  groping  for  courage 
and  hope,  only  to  return  again  to  "  the  door  of  a  legended 
tomb."  It  is  true  the  movement  is  slow,  impeded  by  the  fre 
quent  repetitions,  but  so  the  wearied  mind,  after  nervous 
exhaustion,  is  "  palsied  and  sere."  There  is  no  appeal  to  the 
intellect,  but  this  is  characteristic  of  Poe  and  appropriate  to  a 
mind  numbed  by  protracted  suffering.  It  is  this  mood  of 
wearied,  benumbed,  discouraged,  hopeless  hope,  feebly  seeking 
for  the  "  Lethean  peace  of  the  skies  "  only  to  find  the  mind 
inevitably  reverting  to  the  "  lost  Ulalume,"  that  finds  expres 
sion.  There  is  no  definite  thought,  because  only  the  commu 
nication  of  feeling  is  intended  ;  there  is  no  distinct  setting, 
because  the  whole  action  is  spiritual;  "the  dim  lake"  and 
"  dark  tarn  of  Auber,"  "  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir," 
"  the  alley  Titanic  of  cypress,"  are  the  grief-stricken  and  fear- 
haunted  places  of  the  poet's  own  darkened  mind,  while  the 
ashen  skies  of  "  the  lonesome  October  "  are  significant  enough 
of  this  "most  immemorial  year."  The  poem  is  a  monody  of 
nerveless,  exhausted  grief.  As  such  it  must  be  read  to  be 
appreciated,  as  such  it  must  be  judged,  and  so  appreciated  and 
so  judged  it  is  absolutely  unique  and  incomparable. 

About  a  year  later  came  "The  Bells,"  wonderful  for  the 
music  of  its  verse,  and  the  finest  onomatopoetic  poem  in  the 
language.  Two  days  after  Poe's  death  appeared  "  Annabel 
Lee,"  a  simple,  sincere,  and  beautiful  ballad,  a  tribute  to  his 
dead  wife.  Last  of  all  was  printed  the  brief  "  Eldorado,"  a 
fitting  death-song  for  Poe,  in  which  a  gallant  knight  sets  out, 
"  singing  a  song,"  "in  search  of  Eldorado,"  only  to  learn  when 
youth  and  strength  are  gone  that  he  must  seek  his  goal  "  down 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow." 

The  tales,  like  the  poems,  are  a  real  contribution  to  the 
world's  literature,  but  more  strikingly  so,  since  the  type  itself 
is  original.  Poe,  Hawthorne,  and  Irving  are  distinctly  the 


xxvi  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

pioneers  in  the  production  of  the  modern  short  story,  and 
neither  has  been  surpassed  on  his  own  ground ;  but  Poe  has 
been  vastly  the  greater  influence  in  foreign  countries,  espe 
cially  in  France.  Poe  formed  a  new  conception  of  the  short 
story,  one  which  Professor  Brander  Matthews1  has  treated 
formally  and  explicitly  as  a  distinct  literary  form,  different 
from  the  story  that  is  merely  short.  Without  calling  it  a  dis 
tinct  form,  Poe  implied  the  idea  in  a  review  of  Hawthorne's 
"Twice-Told  Tales": 

The  ordinary  novel  is  objectionable  from  its  length.  ...  As 
it  cannot  be  read  at  one  sitting,  it  deprives  itself,  of  course,  of 
the  immense  force  derivable  from  totality.  ...  In  the  brief  tale, 
however,  the  author  is  enabled  to  carry  out  the  fulness  of  his 
intention,  be  it  what  it  may.  During  the  hour  of  perusal,  the 
soul  of  the  reader  is  at  the  writer's  control.  .  .  . 

A  skillful  literary  artist  has  constructed  a  tale.  If  wise,  he  has 
not  fashioned  his  thoughts  to  accommodate  his  incidents  ;  but 
having  conceived  with  deliberate  care  a  certain  unique  or  single 
effect  to  be  wrought  out,  he  then  invents  such  incidents  —  he  then 
combines  such  events  as  may  best  aid  him  in  establishing  this  pre 
conceived  effect.  If  his  very  initial  sentence  tend  not  to  the  out- 
bringing  of  this  effect,  then  he  has  failed  in  his  first  step.  In  the 
whole  composition  there  should  be  no  word  written,  of  which  the 
tendency,  direct  or  indirect,  is  not  to  the  one  preestablished  design. 

This  idea  of  a  short  story  should  be  kept  in  mind  in  reading 
Poe's  works,  for  he  applied  his  theory  perfectly. 

The  stories  are  of  greater  variety  than  the  poems.  There 
are  romances  of  death  whose  themes  are  fear,  horror,  madness, 
catalepsy,  premature  burial,  torture,  mesmerism,  and  revenge 
ful  cruelty ;  tales  of  weird  beauty ;  allegories  of  conscience  ; 
narratives  of  pseudo-science ;  stories  of  analytical  reasoning ; 
descriptions  of  beautiful  landscapes  ;  and  what  are  usually 
termed  "  prose  poems."  He  also  wrote  tales  grotesque,  humor 
ous,  and  satirical,  most  of  which  are  failures.  The  earlier  tales 

1  "  The  Philosophy  of  the  Short-Story,"  Chapter  IV  of  "  Pen  and 
Ink." 


INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

are  predominantly  imaginative  and  emotional ;  most  of  the 
later  ones  are  predominantly  intellectual.  None  of  the  tales 
touches  ordinary,  healthy  life  ;  there  is  scarcely  a  suggestion 
of  local  color ;  the  humor  is  nearly  always  mechanical ;  there  is 
little  conversation  and  the  characters  are  never  normal  human 
beings.  Although  the  stories  are  strongly  romantic  in  subject, 
plot,  and  setting,  there  is  an  extraordinary  realism  in  treatment, 
a  minuteness  and  accuracy  of  detail  equaling  the  work  of  Defoe. 
This  is  one  secret  of  the  magical  art  that  not  only  transports  us 
to  the  world  of  dream  and  vision  where  the  author's  own  soul 
roamed,  but  for  the  time  makes  it  all  real  to  us. 

Poe's  finest  tale,  as  a  work  of  art,  is  "  The  Fall  of  the  House 
of  Usher,"  which  is  as  nearly  perfect  in  its  craftsmanship  as 
human  work  may  be.  It  is  a  romance  of  death  with  a  setting 
of  profound  gloom,  and  is  wrought  out  as  a  highly  imaginative 
study  in  fear  —  a  symphony  in  which  every  touch  blends  into 
a  perfect  unity  of  effect.  "  Ligeia,"  perhaps  standing  next, 
incorporating  "The  Conqueror  Worm"  as  its  keynote,  por 
trays  the  terrific  struggle  of  a  woman's  will  against  death. 
"The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,"  a  tale  of  the  Spirit  of 
Pestilence  and  of  Death  victorious  over  human  selfishness 
and  power,  is  a  splendid  study  in  somber  color.  "The 
Assignation,"  a  romance  of  Venice,  is  also  splendid  in  color 
ing  and  rich  in  decorative  effects,  presenting  a  luxury  of 
sorrow  culminating  in  romantic  suicide.  "  William  Wilson  "  is 
an  allegory  of  conscience  personified  in  a  double,  the  fore 
runner  of  Stevenson's  "  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde."  Other 
conscience  stories  are  "  The  Man  of  the  Crowd  ";  "  The  Tell- 
Tale  Heart,"  also  depicting  insanity;  and  "The  Black  Cat," 
of  which  the  atmosphere  is  horror.  "  The  Adventures  of  One 
Hans  Pfaal  "  and  "The  Balloon  Hoax"  are  examples  of  the 
pseudo-scientific  tales,  which  attain  their  verisimilitude  by 
diverting  attention  from  the  improbability  or  impossibility  of 
the  general  incidents  to  the  accuracy  and  naturalness  of 
details.  In  "The  Descent  into  the  Maelstrom,"  scientific 


xxviii  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

reasoning  is  skillfully  blended  with  imaginative  strength,  poetic 
description,  and  stirring  adventure.  This  type  of  story  is 
clearly  enough  the  original  of  those  of  Jules  Verne  and  similar 
writers.  "The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue"  and  "The  Pur 
loined  Letter  "  are  the  pioneer  detective  stories,  Dupin  the 
original  Sherlock  Holmes,  and  they  remain  the  best  of  their 
kind,  unsurpassed  in  originality,  ingenuity,  and  plausibility. 
Another  type  of  the  story  of  analytical  reasoning  is  "  The 
Gold-Bug,"  built  around  the  solution  of  a  cryptogram,  but 
also  introducing  an  element  of  adventure.  Poe's  analytical 
power  was  real,  not  a  trick.  If  he  made  Legrand  solve  the 
cryptogram  and  boast  his  ability  to  solve  others  more  difficult, 
Poe  himself  solved  scores  sent  him  in  response  to  a  public 
magazine  challenge  ;  if  Dupin  solved  mysteries  that  Poe  in 
vented  for  him,  Poe  himself  wrote  in  "Marie  Roget,"  from 
newspaper  accounts,  the  solution  of  a  real  murder  mystery,  and 
astounded  Dickens  by  outlining  the  entire  plot  of  "  Barnaby 
Rudge  "  when  only  a  few  of  the  first  chapters  had  been  pub 
lished  ;  if  he  wrote  imaginatively  of  science,  he  in  fact  demon 
strated  in  "  Maelzel's  Chess  Player  "  that  a  pretended  automaton 
was  operated  by  a  man.  "  Hop  Frog  "  and  "  The  Cask  of  Amon 
tillado  "  are  old-world  stories  of  revenge.  "  The  Island  of  the 
Fay  "  and  "  The  Domain  of  Arnheim  "  are  landscape  studies, 
the  one  of  calm  loveliness,  the  other  of  Oriental  profusion  and 
coloring.  "  Shadow  "  and  "  Silence  "  are  commonly  classed  as 
"prose  poems,"  the  former  being  one  of  Poe's  most  effective 
productions.  "  Eleonora,"  besides  having  a  story  to  tell,  is 
both  a  prose  poem  and  a  landscape  study,  and  withal  one  of 
Poe's  most  exquisite  writings. 

Although  Poe  was  not  a  great  critic,  his  critical  work  is  by 
no  means  valueless.  He  applied  for  the  first  time  in  America 
a  thoroughgoing  scrutiny  and  able,  fearless  criticism  to  contem 
porary  literature,  undoubtedly  with  good  effect.  His  attacks 
on  didacticism  were  especially  valuable.  His  strength  as  a 


INTRODUCTION  xxix% 

critic  lay  in  his  artistic  temperament  and  in  the  incisive  intel 
lect  that  enabled  him  to  analyze  the  effects  produced  in  his 
own  creations  and  in  those  of  others.  His  weaknesses  were 
extravagance  ;  a  mania  for  harping  on  plagiarism ;  lack  of 
spiritual  insight,  broad  sympathies,  and  profound  scholarship; 
and,  in  general,  the  narrow  range  of  his  genius,  which  has 
already  been  made  sufficier*  tly  clear.  His  severity  has  been 
exaggerated,  as  he  often  praised  highly,  probably  erring  more 
frequently  by  undue  laudation  than  by  extreme  severity. 
Though  personal  prejudice  sometimes  crept  into  his  work, 
especially  in  favor  of  women,  yet  on  the  whole  he  was  as  fair 
and  fearless  as  he  claimed  to  be.  Much  of  the  hasty,  journal 
istic  hack  work  is  valueless,  as  might  be  expected,  but  he 
wrote  very  suggestively  of  his  art,  and  nearly  all  his  judgments 
have  been  sustained.  Moreover,  he  met  one  supreme  test  of 
a  critic  in  recognizing  unknown  genius  :  Dickens  he  was  among 
the  first  to  appraise  as  a  great  novelist ;  Tennyson  and  Elizabeth 
Barrett  (Browning)  he  ranked  among  the  great  poets  without 
hesitation  ;  and  at  home  he  early  expressed  a  due  appreciation 
of  Hawthorne,  Lowell,  Longfellow,  and  Bryant. 

Poe's  place,  both  in  prose  and  poetry,  is  assured.  His 
recognition  abroad  has  been  clear  and  emphatic  from  the  first, 
especially  in  France,  and  to-day  foreigners  generally  regard  him 
as  the  greatest  writer  we  have  produced,  an  opinion  in  which  a 
number  of  our  own  critics  and  readers  concur.  One's  judgment 
in  the  matter  will  depend  upon  the  point  of  view  and  the  stand 
ards  adopted  ;  it  is  too  large  a  subject  to  consider  here,  but 
if  artistic  craftsmanship  be  the  standard,  certainly  Hawthorne 
would  be  his  only  rival,  and  Hawthorne  was  not  also  a  poet. 
The  question  of  exact  relative  rank,  however,  it  is  neither  pos 
sible  nor  important  to  settle.  It  is  sufficient  to  say,  in  the  words 
of  Professor  Woodberry,  "  On  the  roll  of  our  literature  Poe's 
name  is  inscribed  among  the  few  foremost,  and  in  the  world  at 
large  his  genius  is  established  as  valid  among  all  men." 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  year  after  Poe's  death  there  appeared  "  The  Works  of 
the  Late  Edgar  Allan  Poe,"  with  a  Memoir,  in  two  volumes, 
edited  by  R.  W.  Griswold  and  published  by  J.  S.  Redfield, 
New  York.  The  same  editor  and  publisher  brought  out  a  four- 
volume  edition  in  1856.  Griswold  had  suffered  from  Poe's 
sharp  criticisms  and  had  quarreled  with  him,  though  later 
there  was  a  reconciliation,  and  Poe  himself  selected  Griswold 
to  edit  his  works.  The  biographer  painted  the  dead  author 
very  black  indeed,  and  his  account  is  now  generally  considered 
unfair. 

In  1874-1875  "The  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,"  with 
Memoir,  edited  by  John  H.  Ingram,  were  published  in  four 
volumes,  in  Edinburgh,  and  in  1876  in  New  York.  Ingram 
represents  the  other  extreme  from  Griswold,  attempting  to 
defend  practically  everything  that  Poe  was  and  did. 

In  1884  A.  C.  Armstrong  &  Son,  New  York,  brought  out 
"The  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe"  in  six  volumes,  with  an 
Introduction  and  Memoir  by  Richard  Henry  Stoddard. 
Stoddard  is  far  from  doing  justice  to  Poe  either  as  man  or 
as  author. 

Although  Griswold's  editing  was  poor,  subsequent  editions 
followed  his  until  1895,  when  Professor  George  E.  Woodberry 
and  Mr.  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  published  a  new  edition 
in  ten  volumes  through  Stone  &  Kimball,  Chicago  (now  pub 
lished  by  Duffield  &  Company,  New  York).  This  edition  is 
incomparably  superior  to  all  its  predecessors,  going  to  the 
original  sources,  and  establishing  an  authentic  text,  corrected 
slightly  in  quotations  and  punctuation.  Professor  Woodberry 
contributed  a  Memoir,  and  Mr.  Stedman  admirable  critical 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  xxxi 

articles  on  the  poems  and  the  tales.  Scholarly  notes,  an  exten 
sive  bibliography,  a  number  of  portraits,  and  variant  readings 
of  the  poems  are  included. 

.  In  1902  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  Company,  New  York,  issued 
"The  Complete  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe "  in  seventeen 
volumes,  edited  by  Professor  James  A.  Harrison,  including  a 
biography  and  a  volume  of  letters.  This  edition  contains  much 
of  Poe's  criticism  not  published  in  previous  editions,  and  follows 
Poe's  latest  text  exactly ;  complete  variant  readings  are  included. 

In  1902  there  also  appeared  "  The  Booklover's  Arnheim  " 
edition  in  ten  volumes,  edited  by  Professor  Charles  F.  Richard 
son  and  published  by  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  New  York.  This 
is  mechanically  the  finest  edition  of  Poe's  works. 

Although  most  of  the  many  one-volume  collections  of  poems 
and  tales  are  poorly  edited  in  selection,  text,  and  notes,  a  few  are 
worthy  of  attention.  Professor  Killis  Campbell,  in  "The  Poems 
of  Edgar  Allan  Poe"  (Ginn  and  Company,  1917),  presents  the 
complete  text  of  all  the  poems  with  a  full  record  of  the  numerous 
revisions  shown  at  the  foot  of  each  page.  There  are  extensive 
notes  with  full  commentary  on  each  poem,  and  the  results  of 
some  important  new  researches  are  included.  This  is  decidedly 
the  best  one-volume  edition  of  the  poems.  Others  worthy  of 
mention  are  "The  Best  Tales  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,"  edited 
with  critical  studies  by  Sherwin  Cody  (A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co., 
Chicago) ;  "  The  Best  Poems  and  Essays  of  E.  A.  Poe,"  edited 
\vith  biographical  and  critical  introduction  by  Sherwin  Cody 
(A.  C.  McClurg  £  Co.);  "Poems  of  E.  A.  Poe,"  complete, 
edited  and  annotated  by  Charles  W.  Kent  (The  MacMillan 
Company,  New  York). 

Professor  George  E.  Woodberry  contributed  in  1885  a  volume 
on  Poe  to  the  American  Men  of  Letters  Series  (Houghton 
Mifflin  Company,  Boston),  which  is  the  ablest  yet  written.  In 
scholarship  and  critical  appreciation  it  is  all  that  could  be  desired, 
but  unfortunately  it  is  unsympathetic.  Mr.  Woodberry  assumed 
a  coldly  judicial  attitude,  in  which  mood  he  is  occasionally  a 


xxxii  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

little  less  than  just  to  Poe's  character.  In  1915  Mr.  Woodberry 
issued  a  new  edition  of  his  biography  in  two  volumes,  in 
corporating  a  large  number  of  letters  and  other  documents 
with  extensive  bibliographies.  Professor  Harrison's  biography, 
written  for  the  Virginia  edition,  is  published  separately  by 
Thomas  Y.  Crowell  Company.  It  is  very  full,  and  valuable  for 
the  mass  of  material  supplied,  but  it  is  not  discriminating  in 
criticism  or  in  estimate  of  Poe's  character. 

Numerous  magazine  articles  may  be  found  by  consulting  the 
periodical  indexes.  A  number  of  suggestive  short  studies  are  to 
be  found  in  the  textbooks  of  American  literature,  such  as  those 
of  Messrs.  Long,  Trent,  Abernethy,  Newcomer,  and  Wendell 
and  in  the  larger  books  of  Professors  Richardson,  Trent,  and 
Wendell.  One  may  also  find  acute  and  valuable  comment  in 
such  works  as  Professor  Bliss  Perry's  "A  Study  of  Prose 
Fiction "  and  Professor  Brander  Matthews's  "  Philosophy  of 
the  Short-Story"  (published  separately  and  in  "  Pen  and  Ink  "). 

Many  of  Poe's  tales  and  poems  have  been  translated  into 
practically  all  the  important  languages  of  modern  Europe, 
including  Greek.  An  important  French  study  of  Poe,  recently 
published,  is  mentioned  in  the  Preface. 

In  Trent,  Hanson,  and  Brewster's  "  An  Introduction  to 
the  English  Classics "  (Ginn  and  Company)  suggestions  for 
the  teaching  of  Poe's  tales  and  poems  will  be  found  on 
pages  244-247. 


SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 


POEMS 


SONG 

I  saw  thee  on  thy  bridal  day, 

When  a  burning  blush  came  o'er  thee, 

Though  happiness  around  thee  lay, 
The  world  all  love  before  thee ; 

And  in  thine  eye  a  kindling  light  5 

(Whatever  it  might  be) 
W7as  all  on  Earth  my  aching  sight 

Of  loveliness  could  see. 

That  blush,  perhaps,  was  maiden  shame : 

As  such  it  well  may  pass,  10 

Though  its  glow  hath  raised  a  fiercer  flame 
In  the  breast  of  him,  alas ! 

Who  saw  thee  on  that  bridal  day, 

When  that  deep  blush  would  come  o'er  thee, 
Though  happiness  around  thee  lay,  15 

The  world  all  love  before  thee. 


SPIRITS  OF  THE  DEAD 

Thy  soul  shall  find  itself  alone 
'Mid  dark  thoughts  of  the  gray  tombstone ; 
Not  one,  of  all  the  crowd,  to  pry 
Into  thine  hour  of  secrecy. 
3 


SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

Be  silent  in  that  solitude,  5 

Which  is  not  loneliness  —  for  then 
The  spirits  of  the  dead,  who  stood 

In  life  before  thee,  are  again 
In  death  around  thee,  and  their  will 
Shall  overshadow  thee ;  be  still.  10 

The  night,  though  clear,  shall  frown, 

And  the  stars  shall  look  not  down 

From  their  high  thrones  in  the  Heaven 

With  light  like  hope  to  mortals  given, 

But  their  red  orbs,  without  beam,  15 

To  thy  weariness  shall  seem 

As  a  burning  and  a  fever 

Which  would  cling  to  thee  forever. 

Now  are  thoughts  thou  shalt  not  banish. 

Now  are  visions  ne'er  to  vanish ;  20 

From  thy  spirit  shall  they  pass 

No  more,  like  dewdrops  from  the  grass. 

The  breeze,  the  breath  of  God,  is  still, 

And  the  mist  upon  the  hill 

Shadowy,  shadowy,  yet  unbroken,  25 

Is  a  symbol  and  a  token. 

How  it  hangs  upon  the  trees, 

A  mystery  of  mysteries  1 


TO 

I  heed  not  that  my  earthly  lot 
Hath  little  of  Earth  in  it, 

That  years  of  love  have  been  forgot 
In  the  hatred  of  a  minute  : 


ROMANCE  5 

I  mourn  not  that  the  desolate  5 

Are  happier,  sweet,  than  I, 
But  that  you  sorrow  for  my  fate 

Who  am  a  passer-by. 

ROMANCE 

Romance,  who  loves  to  nod  and  sing 

With  drowsy  head  and  folded  wing 

Among  the  green  leaves  as  they  shake 

Far  down  within  some  shadowy  lake, 

To  me  a  painted  paroquet  5 

Hath  been  —  a  most  familiar  bird  — 

Taught  me  my  alphabet  to  say, 

To  lisp  my  very  earliest  word 

While  in  the  wild-wood  I  did  lie, 

A  child  —  with  a  most  knowing  eye.  "> 

Of  late,  eternal  condor  years 

So  shake  the  very  heaven  on  high 

With  tumult  as  they  thunder  by, 

I  have  no  time  for  idle  cares 

Through  gazing  on  the  unquiet  sky ;  15 

And  when  an  hour  with  calmer  wings 

Its  down  upon  my  spirit  flings, 

That  little  time  with  lyre  and  rhyme 

To  while  away  —  forbidden  things  — 

My  heart  would  feel  to  be  a  crime  20 

Unless  it  trembled  with  the  strings. 

TO  THE  RIVER  

Fair  river  !  in  thy  bright,  clear  flow 

Of  crystal,  wandering  water, 
Thou  art  an  emblem  of  the  glow 


SELECTIONS  FROM  POE 

Of  beauty  —  the  unhidden  heart, 
The  playful  maziness  of  art  5 

In  old  Alberto's  daughter ; 

But  when  within  thy  wave  she  looks, 

Which  glistens  then,  and  trembles, 
Why,  then,  the  prettiest  of  brooks 

Her  worshipper  resembles  ;  10 

For  in  his  heart,  as  in  thy  stream, 

Her  image  deeply  lies  — 
His  heart  which  trembles  at  the  beam 

Of  her  soul-searching  eyes. 


TO  SCIENCE 

A    PROLOGUE    TO    "  AL    AARAAF  " 

Science  !  true  daughter  of  Old  Time  thou  art, 

Who  alterest  all  things  with  thy  peering  eyes. 
Why  preyest  thou  thus  upon  the  poet's  heart, 

Vulture,  whose  wings  are  dull  realities? 
How  should  he  love  thee  ?  or  how  deem  thee  wise,         5 

Who  wouldst  not  leave  him  in  his  wandering 
To  seek  for  treasure  in  the  jewelled  skies, 

Albeit  he  soared  with  an  undaunted  wing? 
Hast  thou  not  dragged  Diana  from  her  car, 

And  driven  the  Hamadryad  from  the  wood  10 

To  seek  a  shelter  in  some  happier  star? 

Hast  thou  not  torn  the  Naiad  from  her  flood, 
The  Elfin  from  the  green  grass,  and  from  me 
The  summer  dream  beneath  the  tamarind- tree? 


TO  HELEN  J 

TO  HELEN 

Helen,  thy  beauty  is  to  me 

Like  those  Nicaean  barks  of  yore, 

Tfeat  gently,  o'er  a  perfumed  sea, 
The  weary,  wayworn  wanderer  bore 
To  his  own  native  shore.  5 

On  desperate  seas  long  wont  to  roam, 
Thy  hyacinth  hair,  thy  classic  face, 

Thy  Naiad  airs,  have  brought  me  home 
To  the  glory  that  was  Greece 

And  the  grandeur  that  was  Rome.  to 

Lo  !  in  yon  brilliant  window-niche 

How  statue-like  I  see  thee  stand, 

The  agate  lamp  within  thy  hand  ! 
Ah,  Psyche,  from  the  regions  which 

Are  Holy  Land  !  15 

ISRAFEL 

And  tne  angel  Israfel,  whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute,  and  who 
has  the  sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures.  —  KORAN 

In  Heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 

Whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute  ; 
None  sing  so  wildly  well 
As  the  angel  Israfel, 

And  the  giddy  stars  (so  legends  tell),  5 

Ceasing  their  hymns,  attend  the  spell 

Of  his  voice,  all  mute. 

Tottering  above 

In  her  highest  noon, 

The  enamoured  moon  10 


SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

Blushes  with  love, 

While,  to  listen,  the  red  levin 

(With  the  rapid  Pleiads,  even, 

Which  were  seven) 

Pauses  in  Heaven.  15 


And  they  say  (the  starry  choir 

And  the  other  listening  things) 
That  Israfeli's  fire 
Is  owing  to  that  lyre 

By  which  he  sits  and  sings,  20 

The  trembling  living  wire 

Of  those  unusual  strings. 

But  the  skies  that  angel  trod, 

Where  deep  thoughts  are  a  duty, 
Where  Love's  a  grown-up  God,  25 

Where  the  Houri  glances  are 
Imbued  with  all  the  beauty 

Which  we  worship  in  a  star. 

Therefore  thou  art  not  wrong, 

Israfeli,  who  despisest  30 

An  unimpassioned  song ; 
To  thee  the  laurels  belong, 

Best  bard,  because  the  wisest : 
Merrily  live,  and  long  ! 

The  ecstasies  above  35 

With  thy  burning  measures  suit : 
Thy  grief,  thy  joy,  thy  hate,  thy  love, 

With  the  fervor  of  thy  lute  : 

Well  may  the  stars  be  mute  ! 


THE   CITY  IN   THE   SEA  9 

Yes,  Heaven  is  thine ;  but  this  4° 

Is  a  world  of  sweets  and  sours ; 

Our  flowers  are  merely  —  flowers, 
And  the  shadow  of  thy  perfect  bliss 

Is  the  sunshine  of  ours. 


If  I  could  dwell  45 

Where  Israfel 

Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 
He  might  not  sing  so  wildly  well 

A  mortal  melody, 
While  a  bolder  note  than  this  might  swell  5° 

From  my  lyre  within  the  sky. 


THE  CITY   IN  THE  SEA 

Lo  !  Death  has  reared  himself  a  throne 

In  a  strange  city  lying  alone 

Far  down  within  the  dim  West, 

Where  the  good  and  the  bad  and  the  worst 

and  the  best 

Have  gone  to  their  eternal  rest.  5 

There  shrines  and  palaces  and  towers 
(Time-eaten  towers  that  tremble  not) 
Resemble  nothing  that  is  ours. 
Around,  by  lifting  winds  forgot, 
Resignedly  beneath  the  sky  10 

The  melancholy  waters  lie. 

No  rays  from  the  holy  heaven  come  down 

On  the  long  night-time  of  that  town ; 

But  light  from  out  the  lurid  sea 

Streams  up  the  turrets  silently,  15 

Gleams  up  the  pinnacles  far  and  free  : 


10  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

Up  domes,  up  spires,  up  kingly  halls, 
Up  fanes,  up  Babylon-like  walls, 

Up  shadowy  long-forgotten  bowers 

Of  sculptured  ivy  and  stone  flowers,  20 

Up  many  and  many  a  marvellous  shrine 

Whose  wreathed  friezes  intertwine 

The  viol,  the  violet,  and  the  vine. 

Resignedly  beneath  the  sky 

The  melancholy  waters  lie.  25 

So  blend  the  turrets  and  shadows  there 

That  all  seem  pendulous  in  air, 

While  from  a  proud  tower  in  the  town 

Death  looks  gigantically  down. 

There  open  fanes  and  gaping  graves  30 

Yawn  level  with  the  luminous  waves ; 

But  not  the  riches  there  that  lie 

In  each  idol's  diamond  eye,  — 

Not  the  gaily-jewelled  dead, 

Tempt  the  waters  from  their  bed ;  35 

For  no  ripples  curl,  alas, 

Along  that  wilderness  of  glass ; 

No  swellings  tell  that  winds  may  be 

Upon  some  far-off  happier  sea ; 

No  heavings  hint  that  winds  have  been  40 

On  seas  less  hideously  serene  ! 

But  lo,  a  stir  is  in  the  air ! 

The  wave  —  there  is  a  movement  there  ! 

As  if  the  towers  had  thrust  aside, 

In  slightly  sinking,  the  dull  tide ;  45 

As  if  their  tops  had  feebly  given 

A  void  within  the  filmy  Heaven  ! 

The  waves  have  now  a  redder  glow, 

The  hours  are  breathing  faint  and  low ; 


THE   SLEEPER  II 

And  when,  amid  no  earthly  moans,  5° 

Down,  down  that  town  shall  settle  hence, 
Hell,  rising  from  a  thousand  thrones, 
Shall  do  it  reverence. 


THE   SLEEPER 

At  midnight,  in  the  month  of  June, 

I  stand  beneath  the  mystic  moon. 

An  opiate  vapor,  dewy,  dim, 

Exhales  from  out  her  golden  rim, 

And,  softly  dripping,  drop  by  drop,  5 

Upon  the  quiet  mountain-top, 

Steals  drowsily  and  musically 

Into  the  universal  valley. 

The  rosemary  nods  upon  the  grave ; 

The  lily  lolls  upon  the  wave ;  10 

Wrapping  the  fog  about  its  breast, 

The  ruin  moulders  into  rest ; 

Looking  like  Lethe,  see  !  the  lake 

A  conscious  slumber  seems  to  take, 

And  would  not,  for  the  world,  awake.  15 

All  beauty  sleeps  !  —  and  lo  !  where  lies 

Irene,  with  her  destinies  ! 

Oh  lady  bright !  can  it  be  right, 

This  window  open  to  the  night? 

The  wanton  airs,  from  the  tree-top,  20 

Laughingly  through  the  lattice  drop; 

The  bodiless  airs,  a  wizard  rout, 

Flit  through  thy  chamber  in  and  out, 

And  wave  the  curtain  canopy 

So  fitfully,  so  fearfully,  25 

Above  the  closed  and  fringed  lid 

'Neath  which  thy  slumb'ring  soul  lies  hid, 


12  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

That,  o'er  the  floor  and  down  the  wall, 

Like  ghosts  the  shadows  rise  and  fall. 

Oh  lady  dear,  hast  thou  no  fear?  30 

Why  and  what  art  thou  dreaming  here? 

Sure  thou  art  come  o'er  far-off  seas, 

A  wonder  to  these  garden  trees ! 

Strange  is  thy  pallor  :   strange  thy  dress : 

Strange,  above  all,  thy  length  of  tress,  35 

And  this  all  solemn  sibntness  ! 

The  lady  sleeps.    Oh,  may  her  sleep, 

Which  is  enduring,  so  be  deep  ! 

Heaven  have  her  in  its  sacred  keep  ! 

This  chamber  changed  for  one  more  holy,  40 

This  bed  for  one  more  melancholy, 

I  pray  to  God  that  she  may  lie 

Forever  with  unopened  eye, 

While  the  pale  sheeted  ghosts  go  by  ! 

My  love,  she  sleeps.    Oh,  may  her  sleep,  45 

As  it  is  lasting,  so  be  deep  ! 

Soft  may  the  worms  about  her  creep  ! 

Far  in  the  forest,  dim  and  old, 

For  her  may  some  tall  vault  unfold  : 

Some  vault  that  oft  hath  flung  its  black  50 

And  winged  pannels  fluttering  back, 

Triumphant,  o'er  the  crested  palls 

Of  her  grand  family  funerals  : 

Some  sepulchre,  remote,  alone, 

Against  whose  portal  she  hath  thrown,  55 

In  childhood,  many  an  idle  stone  : 

Some  tomb  from  out  whose  sounding  door 

She  ne'er  shall  force  an  echo  more, 

Thrilling  to  think,  poor  child  of  sin, 

It  was  the  dead  who  groaned  within  1  60 


LENORE  13 

LENORE 

Ah,  broken  is  the  golden  bowl !  the  spiiit  flown  forever ! 
Let  the  bell  toll !  —  a  saintly  soul  floats  on  the  Stygian  river ; 
And,  Guy  De  Vere,  hast  thou  no  tear? — weep  now  or  never 

more! 

See,  on  yon  drear  and  rigid  bier  low  lies  thy  love,  Lenore !     4 
Come,  let  the  burial  rite  be  read  —  the  funeral  song  be  sung : 
An  anthem  for  the  queenliest  dead  that  ever  died  so  young, 
A  dirge  for  her  the  doubly  dead  in  that  she  died  so  young. 

"  Wretches,  ye  loved  her  for  her  wealth  and  hated  her  for  her 

pride, 
And  when  she  fell  in  feeble  health,  ye  blessed  her  —  that  she 

died !  9 

How  shall  the  ritual,  then,  be  read?  the  requiem  how  be  sung 
By  you  —  by  yours,  the  evil  eye,  —  by  yours,  the  slanderous 

tongue 
That  did  to  death  the  innocence  that  died,  and  died  so  young  ? " 

Peccavimus  ;  but  rave  not  thus !  and  let  a  Sabbath  song 
Go  up  to  God  so  solemnly  the  dead  may  feel  no  wrong.         14 
The  sweet  Lenore  hath  gone  before,  with  Hope  that  flew  beside, 
Leaving  thee  wild  for  the  dear  child  that  should  have  been  thy 

bride  : 

For  her,  the  fair  and  debonair,  that  now  so  lowly  lies, 
The  life  upon  her  yellow  hair  but  not  within  her  eyes; 
The  life  still  there,  upon  her  hair  —  the  death  upon  her  eyes. 

"  Avaunt !  avaunt !  from  fiends  below,  the  indignant  ghost  is 
riven  —  20 

From  Hell  unto  a  high  estate  far  up  within  the  Heaven  — 
From  grief  and  groan,  to  a  golden  throne,  beside  the  King 
of  Heaven  I 


14  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

Let  no  bell  toll,  then,  —  lest  her  soul,  amid  its  hallowed  mirth, 
Should  catch  the  note  as  it  doth  float  up  from  the  damned 
Earth !  24 

And  I !  —  to-night  my  heart  is  light  1  —  No  dirge  will  I  upraise, 
But  waft  the  angel  on  her  flight  with  a  Paean  of  old  days." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  UNREST 

Once  it  smiled  a  silent  dell 

Where  the  people  did  not  dwell ; 

They  had  gone  unto  the  wars, 

Trusting  to  the  mild-eyed  stars, 

Nightly,  from  their  azure  towers,  5 

To  keep  watch  above  the  flowers, 

In  the  midst  of  which  all  day 

The  red  sunlight  lazily  lay. 

Now  each  visitor  shall  confess 

The  sad  valley's  restlessness.  xo 

Nothing  there  is  motionless, 

Nothing  save  the  airs  that  brood 

Over  the  magic  solitude. 

Ah,  by  no  wind  are  stirred  those  trees 

That  palpitate  like  the  chill  seas  15 

Around  the  misty  Hebrides  1 

Ah,  by  no  wind  those  clouds  are  driven 

That  rustle  through  the  unquiet  Heaven 

Uneasily,  from  morn  till  even, 

Over  the  violets  there  that  lie  20 

In  myriad  types  of  the  human  eye, 

Over  the  lilies  there  that  wave 

And  weep  above  a  nameless  grave  ! 

They  wave  :  —  from  out  their  fragrant  tops 

Eternal  dews  come  down  in  drops.  25 

They  weep  :  —  from  off  their  delicate  stems 

Perennial  tears  descend  in  gems. 


THE    COLISEUM  1 5 

THE  COLISEUM 

Type  of  the  antique  Rome  !    Rich  reliquary 

Of  lofty  contemplation  left  to  Time 

By  buried  centuries  of  pomp  and  power ! 

At  length  —  at  length  —  after  so  many  days 

Of  weary  pilgrimage  and  burning  thirst  5 

(Thirst  for  the  springs  of  lore  that  in  thee  lie), 

I  kneel,  an  altered  and  an  humble  man, 

Amid  thy  shadows,  and  so  drink  within 

My  very  soul  thy  grandeur,  gloom,  and  glory. 

Vastness,  and  Age,  and  Memories  of  Eld  !  10 

Silence,  and  Desolation,  and  dim  Night  I 

I  feel  ye  now,  I  feel  ye  in  your  strength, 

O  spells  more  sure  than  e'er  Judaean  king 

Taught  in  the  gardens  of  Gethsemane ! 

O  charms  more  potent  than  the  rapt  Chaldee  15 

Ever  drew  down  from  out  the  quiet  stars  1 

Here,  where  a  hero  fell,  a  column  falls ! 

Here,  where  the  mimic  eagle  glared  in  gold, 

A  midnight  vigil  holds  the  swarthy  bat ; 

Here,  where  the  dames  of  Rome  their  gilded  hair  20 

Waved  to  the  wind,  now  wave  the  reed  and  thistle ; 

Here,  where  on  golden  throne  the  monarch  lolled, 

Glides,  spectre-like,  unto  his  marble  home, 

Lit  by  the  wan  light  of  the  horned  moon, 

The  swift  and  silent  lizard  of  the  stones.  25 

But  stay  1  these  walls,  these  ivy-clad  arcades, 
.These  mouldering  plinths,  these  sad  and  blackened  shafts, 
These  vague  entablatures,  this  crumbling  frieze, 
These  shattered  cornices,  this  wreck,  this  ruin, 
These  stones  —  alas  !  these  gray  stones  —  are  they  all,      30 


l6  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

All  of  the  famed  and  the  colossal  left 
By  the  corrosive  Hours  to  Fate  and  me? 

"  Not  all  "  —  the  Echoes  answer  me  —  "  not  all  I 

Prophetic  sounds  and  loud  arise  forever 

From  us,  and  from  all  Ruin,  unto  the  wise,  35 

As  melody  from  Memnon  to  the  Sun. 

We  rule  the  hearts  of  mightiest  men  —  we  rule 

With  a  despotic  sway  all  giant  minds. 

We  are  not  impotent,  we  pallid  stones : 

Not  all  our  power  is  gone,  not  all  our  fame,         .       40 

Not  all  the  magic  of  our  high  renown, 

Not  all  the  wonder  that  encircles  us, 

Not  all  the  mysteries  that  in  us  lie, 

Not  all  the  memories  that  hang  upon 

And  cling  around  about  us  as  a  garment,  45 

Clothing  us  in  a  robe  of  more  than  glory." 


HYMN 

At  morn  —  at  noon  —  at  twilight  dim, 

Maria  1  thou  hast  heard  my  hymn. 

In  joy  and  woe,  in  good  and  ill, 

Mother  of  God,  be  with  me  still ! 

When  the  hours  flew  brightly  by,  5 

And  not  a  cloud  obscured  the  sky, 

My  soul,  lest  it  should  truant  be, 

Thy  grace  did  guide  to  thine  and  thee. 

Now,  when  storms  of  fate  o'ercast 

Darkly  my  Present  and  my  Past,  10 

Let  my  Future  radiant  shine 

With  sweet  hopes  of  thee  and  thine  1 


TO   ONE    IN   PARADISE  17 

TO  ONE  IN  PARADISE 

Thou  wast  all  that  to  me,  love, 

For  which  my  soul  did  pine : 
A  green  isle  in  the  sea,  love, 

A  fountain  and  a  shrine 
All  wreathed  with  fairy  fruits  and  flowers,  5 

And  all  the  flowers  were  mine. 

Ah,  dream  too  bright  to  last ! 

Ah,  starry  Hope,  that  didst  arise 
But  to  be  overcast ! 

A  voice  from  out  the  Future  cries,  10 

"  On  !  on  !  "  —  but  o'er  the  Past 

(Dim  gulf !)  my  spirit  hovering  lies 
Mute,  motionless,  aghast. 

For,  alas  !  alas  !  with  me 

The  light  of  Life  is  o'er  !  15 

No  more  —  no  more  —  no  more  — 
(Such  language  holds  the  solemn  sea 

To  the  sands  upon  the  shore) 
Shall  bloom  the  thunder-blasted  tree, 

Or  the  stricken  eagle  soar.  20 

And  all  my  days  are  trances, 

And  all  my  nightly  dreams 
Are  where  thy  gray  eye  glances, 

And  where  thy  footstep  gleams  — 
In  what  ethereal  dances,  25 

By  what  eternal  streams. 


18  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 


TO   F- 


Beloved  1  amid  the  earnest  woes 
That  crowd  around  my  earthly  path 

(Drear  path,  alas  !  where  grows 

Not  even  one  lonely  rose), 

My  soul  at  least  a  solace  hath  5 

In  dreams  of  thee,  and  therein  knows 

An  Eden  of  bland  repose. 

And  thus  thy  memory  is  to  me 

Like  some  enchanted  far-off  isle 
In  some  tumultuous  sea,  —  10 

Some  ocean  throbbing  far  and  free 

With  storms,  but  where  meanwhile 
Serenest  skies  continually 

Just  o'er  that  one  bright  island  smile. 

TO  F S  S.  O D 

Thou  would st  be  loved  ?  —  then  let  thy  heart 

From  its  present  pathway  part  not : 
Being  everything  which  now  thou  art, 

Be  nothing  which  thou  art  not. 
So  with  the  world  thy  gentle  ways,  5 

Thy  grace,  thy  more  than  beauty, 
Shall  be  an  endless  theme  of  praise, 

And  love  —  a  simple  duty. 

TO  ZANTE 

Fair  isle,  that  from  the  fairest  of  all  flowers 
Thy  gentlest  of  all  gentle  names  dost  take, 

How  many  memories  of  what  radiant  hours 
At  sight  of  thee  and  thine  at  once  awake  ! 


BRIDAL   BALLAD  19 

How  many  scenes  of  what  departed  bliss,  5 

How  many  thoughts  of  what  entombed  hopes, 
How  many  visions  of  a  maiden  that  is 

No  more  —  no  more  upon  thy  verdant  slopes  ! 
No  more  !  alas,  that  magical  sad  sound 

Transforming  all !  Thy  charms  shall  please  no  more,    10 
Thy  memory  no  more.    Accursed  ground  ! 

Henceforth  I  hold  thy  flower-enamelled  shore, 
O  hyacinthine  isle  !   O  purple  Zante  ! 
"  Isola  d'oro  !  Fior  di  Levante  !  " 


BRIDAL  BALLAD 

The  ring  is  on  my  hand, 

And  the  wreath  is  on  my  brow ; 
Satins  and  jewels  grand 
Are  all  at  my  command, 

And  I  am  happy  now.  5 

And  my  lord  he  loves  me  well ; 

But,  when  first  he  breathed  his  vow, 
I  felt  my  bosom  swell, 
For  the  words  rang  as  a  knell, 
And  the  voice  seemed  his  who  fell  10 

In  the  battle  down  the  dell, 

And  who  is  happy  now. 

But  he  spoke  to  reassure  me, 

And  he  kissed  my  pallid  brow, 
While  a  reverie  came  o'er  me,  15 

And  to  the  church- yard  bore  me, 
And  I  sighed  to  him  before  me, 
Thinking  him  dead  D'Elormie, 

"  Oh,  I  am  happy  now  !  " 


20  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

And  thus  the  words  were  spoken,  20 

And  this  the  plighted  vow ; 
And  though  my  faith  be  broken, 
And  though  my  heart  be  broken, 
Here  is  a  ring,  as  token 

That  I  am  happy  now  !  25 

Would  God  I  could  awaken  ! 

For  I  dream  I  know  not  how, 
And  my  soul  is  sorely  shaken 
Lest  an  evil  step  be  taken, 
Lest  the  dead  who  is  forsaken  30 

May  not  be  happy  now. 


SILENCE 

There  are  some  qualities,  some  incorporate  things, 

That  have  a  double  life,  which  thus  is  made 
A  type  of  that  twin  entity  which  springs 

From  matter  and  light,  evinced  in  solid  and  shade. 
There  is  a  twofold  Silence  —  sea  and  shore,  5 

Body  and  soul.    One  dwells  in  lonely  places, 
Newly  with  grass  o'ergrown  •  some  solemn  graces, 
Some  human  memories  and  tearful  lore, 
Render  him  terrorless  :  his  name's  "  No  More." 
He  is  the  corporate  Silence  :  dread  him  not :  10 

No  power  hath  he  of  evil  in  himself ; 
But  should  some  urgent  fate  (untimely  lot  !) 

Bring  thee  to  meet  his  shadow  (nameless  elf, 
That  haunteth  the  lone  regions  where  hath  trod 
No  foot  of  man),  commend  thyself  to  God  !  15 


THE  CONQUEROR  WORM  21 

THE  CONQUEROR  WORM 

Lo  !  't  is  a  gala  night 

Within  the  lonesome  latter  years. 
An  angel  throng,  bewinged,  bedight 

In  veils,  and  drowned  in  tears, 
Sit  in  a  theatre  to  see  5 

A  play  of  hopes  and  fears, 
While  the  orchestra  breathes  fitfully 

The  music  of  the  spheres. 

Mimes,  in  the  form  of  God  on  high, 

Mutter  and  mumble  low,  10 

And  hither  and  thither  fly ; 

Mere  puppets  they,  who  come  and  go 
At  bidding  of  vast  formless  things 

That  shift  the  scenery  to  and  fro, 
Flapping  from  out  their  condor  wings  15 

Invisible  Woe. 

That  motley  drama  —  oh,  be  sure 

It  shall  not  be  forgot ! 
With  its  Phantom  chased  for  evermore 

By  a  crowd  that  seize  it  not,  20 

Through  a  circle  that  ever  returneth  in 

To  the  self-same  spot ; 
And  much  of  Madness,  and  more  of  Sin, 

And  Horror  the  soul  of  the  plot. 

But  see  amid  the  mimic  rout  25 

A  crawling  shape  intrude  : 
A  blood-red  thing  that  writhes  from  out 

The  scenic  solitude  ! 


22  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

It  writhes  —  it  writhes  !  —  with  mortal  pangs 

The  mimes  become  its  food,  30 

And  seraphs  sob  at  vermin  fangs 
In  human  gore  imbued. 

Out  —  out  are  the  lights  —  out  all ! 

And  over  each  quivering  form 
The  curtain,  a  funeral  pall,  35 

Comes  down  with  the  rush  of  a  storm, 
While  the  angels,  all  pallid  and  wan, 

Uprising,  unveiling,  affirm 
That  the  play  is  the  tragedy,  "  Man," 

And  its  hero,  the  Conqueror  Worm.  4« 


DREAM-LAND 

By  a  route  obscure  and  lonely, 
Haunted  by  ill  angels  only, 
Where  an  Eidolon,  named  Night, 
On  a  black  throne  reigns  upright, 
I  have  reached  these  lands  but  newly  5 

From  an  ultimate  dim  Thule  : 
From  a  wild  weird  clime  that  lieth,  sublime, 

Out  of  Space  — out  of  Time. 
Bottomless  vales  and  boundless  floods, 
And  chasms  and  caves  and  Titan  woods,  10 

With  forms  that  no  man  can  discover 
For  the  tears  that  drip  all  over  ; 
Mountains  toppling  evermore 
Into  seas  without  a  shore ; 

Seas  that  restlessly  aspire,  15 

Surging,  unto  skies  of  fire  ; 
Lakes  that  endlessly  outspread 
Their  lone  waters,  lone  and  dead,  — 


DREAM-LAND  23 

Their  still  waters,  still  and  chilly 

With  the  snows  of  the  lolling  lily.  20 


By  the  kkes  that  thus  outspread 

Their  lone  waters,  lone  and  dead,  — 

Their  sad  waters,  sad  and  chilly 

With  the  snows  of  the  lolling  lily ; 

By  the  mountains  —  near  the  river  25 

Murmuring  lowly,  murmuring  ever ; 

By  the  gray  woods,  by  the  swamp 

Where  the  toad  and  the  newt  encamp ; 

By  the  dismal  tarns  and  pools 

Where  dwell  the  Ghouls  ;  3° 

By  each  spot  the  most  unholy, 
In  each  nook  most  melancholy,  — 
There  the  traveller  meets  aghast 
Sheeted  Memories  of  the  Past : 
Shrouded  forms  that  start  and  sigh  35 

As  they  pass  the  wanderer  by, 
White -robed  forms  of  friends  long  given, 
In  agony,  to  the  Earth  —  and  Heaven. 

For  the  heart  whose  woes  are  legion 

'  T  is  a  peaceful,  soothing  region  ;  40 

For  the  spirit  that  walks  in  shadow 

T  is  —  oh,  't  is  an  Eldorado  ! 

But  the  traveller,  travelling  through  it, 

May  not  —  dare  not  openly  view  it ; 

Never  its  mysteries  are  exposed  45 

To  the  weak  human  eye  unclosed ; 

So  wills  its  King,  who  hath  forbid 

The  uplifting  of  the  fringed  lid ; 

And  thus  the  sad  Soul  that  here  passes 

Beholds  it  but  through  darkened  glasses.  50 


24  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

By  a  route  obscure  and  lonely, 

Haunted  by  ill  angels  only, 

Where  an  Eidolon,  named  Night, 

On  a  black  throne  reigns  upright, 

I  have  wandered  home  but  newly  55 

From  this  ultimate  dim  Thule. 


THE  RAVEN 

I 
Once  upon  a  midnight  dreary,  while  I  pondered,  weak  and 

weary, 

Over  many  a  quaint  and  curious  volume  of  forgotten  lore,  — 
While    I    nodded,   nearly  napping,   suddenly    there    came   a 

tapping, 

As  of  some  one  gently  rapping,  rapping  at  my  chamber  door. 
"'Tis  some  visitor,"  I  muttered,  "tapping  at  my  chamber 

door :  5 

Only  this  and  nothing  more." 

'  V 
Ah,  distinctly  I  remember  it  was   in  the  bleak  December, 

And  each  separate  dying  ember  wrought  its  ghost  upon  the 

floor. 
Eagerly    I    wished    the   morrow ;  —  vainly   I    had   sought   to 

borrow 
From  my  books   surcease    of    sorrow  —  sorrow  for   the    lost 

Lenore,  10 

For   the   rare  and  radiant  maiden  whom   the   angels  name 

Lenore  : 

Nameless  here  forevermore. 

And  the  silken  sad  uncertain  rustling  of  each  purple  curtain 

Thrilled    me  —  filled    me    with   fantastic    terrors   never   felt 

before  ;  14 

So  that  now,  to  still  the  beating  of  my  heart,  I  stood  repeating 


THE   RAVEN  25 

"  'Tis  some  visitor  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber  door, 
Some  late  visitor  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber  door : 

This  it  is  and  nothing  more."  18 

Presently  my  soul  grew  stronger  ;  hesitating  then  no  longer, 
"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  or  Madam,  truly  your  forgiveness  I  implore ; 
But  the  fact  is  I  was  napping,  and  so  gently  you  came  rapping, 
And  so  faintly  you  came  tapping,   tapping  at  my  chamber 

door, 
That  I  scarce  was  sure  I  heard  you ' '  —  here  I  opened  wide 

the  door : — 

Darkness  there  and  nothing  more. 

Deep  into  that  darkness  peering,  long  I  stood  there  wonder 
ing,  fearing,  25 

Doubting,  dreaming  dreams  no  mortals  ever  dared  to  dream 
before ; 

But  the  silence  was  unbroken,  and  the  stillness  gave  no  token, 

And  the  only  word  there  spoken  was  the  whispered  word, 
"Lenore?" 

This  I  whispered,  and  an  echo  murmured  back  the  word, 
"  Lenore :  " 

Merely  this  and  nothing  more.  30 

£ 

Back  into  the  chamber  turning,  all  my  soul  within  me  burning, 
Soon  again  I  heard  a  tapping  somewhat  louder  than  before. 
"Surely,"   said  I,   "surely  that  is  something  at  my  window 

lattice ; 

Let  me  see,  then,  what  thereat  is,  and  this  mystery  explore ; 
Let  my  heart  be  still  a  moment  and  this  mystery  explore  :     35 
Tis  the  wind  and  nothing  more." 

-j 

Open  here  I  flung  the  shutter,  when,  with  many  a  flirt  and 

flutter, 
In  there  stepped  a  stately  Raven  of  the  saintly  days  of  yore. 


26  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

Not  the  least  obeisance  made  he  ;  not  a  minute  stopped  or 

stayed  he ; 
But,  with  mien  of  lord  or  lady,  perched  above  my  chamber 

door,  40 

Perched  upon  a  bust  of  Pallas  just  above  my  chamber  door : 
Perched,  and  sat,  and  nothing  more. 

Then  this  ebony  bird  beguiling  my  sad  fancy  into  smiling 

By  the  grave  and  stern  decorum  of  the  countenance  it  wore,  — 

"  Though  thy  crest  be  shorn  and  shaven,  thou,"  I  said,  "  art 

sure  no  craven,  45 

Ghastly  grim  and  ancient  Raven  wandering  from  the  Nightly 

shore  : 
Tell  me  what  thy  lordly  name  is  on  the  Night's  Plutonian 

shore  !  " 

Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 

Much  I   marvelled   this  ungainly  fowl  to  hear  discourse  so 

plainly, 

Though  its  answer  little  meaning  —  little  relevancy  bore  ;      50 
For  we  cannot  help  agreeing  that  no  living  human  being 
Ever  yet  was  blessed   with  seeing  bird   above   his  chamber 

door, 

Bird  or  beast  upon  the  sculptured  bust  above  his  chamber  door, 
With  such  name  as  "  Nevermore." 

But  the  Raven,  sitting  lonely  on  the  placid  bust,  spoke  only 
That  one  word,  as  if  his  soul  in  that  one  word  he  did  outpour. 
Nothing   further   then    he   uttered,    not    a   feather   then  he 

fluttered,  57 

Till  I  scarcely  more  than  muttered,  — "  Other  friends  have 

flown  before ; 
On  the  morrow  he  will  leave  me,  as  my  Hopes  have  flown 

before." 

Then  the  bird  said,  "  Nevermore." 


THE   RAVEN  27 

f  / 

Startled  at  the  stillness  broken  by  reply  so  aptly  spoken, 
"Doubtless,"  said  I,  "what  it  utters  is  its  only  stock  and 

store, 

Caught  from  some  unhappy  master  whom  unmerciful  Disaster 
Followed  fast  and  followed  faster  till  his  songs  one  burden 

bore  : 

Till  the  dirges  of  his  Hope  that  melancholy  burden  bore       65 
'  Of  *  Never  —  nevermore.'  " 

f  "Z 

But  the  Raven  still  beguiling  all  my  fancy  into  smiling, 
Straight  I  wheeled  a  cushioned  seat  in  front  of  bird  and  bust 

and  door ; 

Then,  upon  the  velvet  sinking,  I  betook  myself  to  linking 
Fancy  unto  fancy,  thinking  what  this  ominous  bird  of  yore,  7° 
What  this  grim,  ungainly,  ghastly,  gaunt,  and  ominous  bird  of 

yore 

Meant  in  croaking  "  Nevermore." 

-p 
This  I  sat  engaged  in  guessing,  but  no  syllable  expressing 

To  the  fowl  whose  fiery  eyes  now  burned  into  my  bosom's 
core ;  74 

This  and  more  I  sat  divining,  with  my  head  at  ease  reclining 
On  the  cushion's  velvet  lining  that  the  lamp-light  gloated  o'er, 
But  whose  velvet  violet  lining  with  the  lamp-light  gloating  o'er 
She  shall  press,  ah,  nevermore  ! 

Then,  methought,  the  air  grew  denser,  perfumed  from  an  unseen 
censer  79 

Swung  by  seraphim  whose  foot-falls  tinkled  on  the  tufted  floor. 

"  Wretch,"  I  cried,  "  thy  God  hath  lent  thee  —  by  these  angels 
he  hath  sent  thee 

Respite  —  respite  and  nepenthe  from  thy  memories  of  Lenore  ! 

Quaff,  oh  quaff  this  kind  nepenthe,  and  forget  this  lost  Lenore  !  " 
Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 


28  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

"  Prophet  !  "  said  I,  "  thing  of  evil  !  prophet  still,  if  bird  or 

devil !  85 

Whether  Tempter  sent,  or  whether  tempest  tossed  thee  here 

ashore, 

Desolate  yet  all  undaunted,  on  this  desert  land  enchanted  — 
On  this  home  by  Horror  haunted  —  tell  me  truly,  1  implore  : 
Is  there  —  is  there  balm  in  Gilead?  —  tell  me  —  tell  me,  I 
implore  !" 

Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore."  9° 

"  Prophet !  "  said  I,  "  thing  of  evil  —  prophet  still,  if  bird  or 

devil ! 
By  that  Heaven  that  bends  above  us,  by  that  God  we  both 

adore, 

Tell  this  soul  with  sorrow  laden  if,  within  the  distant  Aidenn, 
It  shall  clasp  a  sainted  maiden  whom  the  angels  name  Lenore : 
Clasp  a  rare  and  radiant  maiden  whom  the  angels  name 

Lenore."  95 

Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 

"  Be  that  word  our  sign  of  parting,  bird  or  fiend  !  "  I  shrieked, 

upstarting : 
"  Get  thee  back  into  the  tempest  and  the  Night's  Plutonian 

shore  ! 
Leave  no  black  plume  as  a  token  of  that  lie  thy  soul  hath 

spoken !  99 

Leave  my  loneliness  unbroken  !  quit  the  bust  above  my  door  ! 
Take  thy  beak  from  out  my  heart,  and  take  thy  form  from  off 

my  door  !  " 

Quoth  the  Raven,  "  Nevermore." 

And  the  Raven,  never  flitting,  still  is  sitting,  still  is  sitting 
On  the  pallid  bust  of  Pallas  just  above  my  chamber  door ; 
And    his  eyes  have   all   the  seeming  of   a  demon's  that  is 
dreaming,  105 


EULALIE  29 

And  the  lamp-light  o'er  him  streaming  throws  his  shadow  on 

the  floor : 

And  my  soul  from  out  that  shadow  that  lies  floating  on  the  floor 
Shall  be  lifted  —  nevermore. 


EULALIE 

I  dwelt  alone 
In  a  world  of  moan, 
And  my  soul  was  a  stagnant  tide, 

Till  the  fair  and  gentle  Eulalie  became  my  blushing  bride,      4 
Till  the  yellow-haired  young  Eulalie  became  my  smiling  bride. 

Ah,  less  —  less  bright 
The  stars  of  the  night 
Than  the  eyes  of  the  radiant  girl ! 
And  never  a  flake 

That  the  vapor  can  make  10 

With  the  moon-tints  of  purple  and  pearl 
Can  vie  with  the  modest  Eulalie's  most  unregarded  curl, 
Can  compare  with  the  bright-eyed  Eulalie's  most  humble  and 
careless  curl. 

Now  doubt  —  now  pain 

Come  never  again,  15 

For  her  soul  gives  me  sigh  for  sigh  ; 
And  all  day  long 
Shines,  bright  and  strong, 
Astarte  within  the  sky, 

While  ever  to  her  dear  Eulalie  upturns  her  matron  eye,         20 
While  ever  to  her  young  Eulalie  upturns  her  violet  eye. 


30  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

TO  M.  L.  S 

Of  all  who  hail  thy  presence  as  the  morning ; 

Of  all  to  whom  thine  absence  is  the  night, 

The  blotting  utterly  from  out  high  heaven 

The  sacred  sun ;  of  all  who,  weeping,  bless  thee 

Hourly  for  hope,  for  life,  ah  !  above  all,  5 

For  the  resurrection  of  deep-buried  faith 

In  truth,  in  virtue,  in  humanity; 

Of  all  who,  on  despair's  unhallowed  bed 

Lying  down  to  die,  have  suddenly  arisen 

At  thy  soft-murmured  words,  "  Let  there  be  light !  "      10 

At  the  soft-murmured  words  that  were  fulfilled 

In  the  seraphic  glancing  of  thine  eyes ; 

Of  all  who  owe  thee  most,  whose  gratitude 

Nearest  resembles  worship,  oh,  remember 

The  truest,  the  most  fervently  devoted,  15 

And  think  that  these  weak  lines  are  written  by  him  : 

By  him,  who,  as  he  pens  them,  thrills  to  think 

His  spirit  is  communing  with  an  angel's. 

ULALUME 

The  skies  they  were  ashen  and  sober ; 

The  leaves  they  were  crisped  and  sere, 

The  leaves  they  were  withering  and  sere  ; 
It  was  night  in  the  lonesome  October 

Of  my  most  immemorial  year  ;  5 

It  was  hard  by  the  dim  lake  of  Auber, 

In  the  misty  mid  region  of  Weir : 
It  was  down  by  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 

In  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir. 

Here  once,  through  an  alley  Titanic  10 

Of  cypress,  I  roamed  with  my  Soul  — 
Of  cypress,  with  Psyche,  my  Soul. 


ULALUME  31 

These  were  days  when  my  heart  was  volcanic 

As  the  scoriae  rivers  that  roll, 

As  the  lavas  that  restlessly  roll  15 

Their  sulphurous  currents  down  Yaanek 

In  the  ultimate  climes  of  the  pole, 
That  groan  as  they  roll  down  Mount  Yaanek 

In  the  realms  of  the  boreal  pole. 

Our  talk  had  been  serious  and  sober,  20 

But  our  thoughts  they  were  palsied  and  sere, 
Our  memories  were  treacherous  and  sere, 

For  we  knew  not  the  month  was  October, 

And  we  marked  not  the  night  of  the  year, 

(Ah,  night  of  all  nights  in  the  year  !)  25 

We  noted  not  the  dim  lake  of  Auber 

(Though  once  we  had  journeyed  down  here), 

Remembered  not  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber 

Nor  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir. 

And  now,  as  the  night  was  senescent  3° 

And  star-dials  pointed  to  morn, 

As  the  star-dials  hinted  of  morn, 
At  the  end  of  our  path  a  liquescent 

And  nebulous  lustre  was  born, 
Out  of  which  a  miraculous  crescent  35 

Arose  with  a  duplicate  horn, 
Astarte's  bediamonded  crescent 

Distinct  with  its  duplicate  horn. 

And  I  said  —  "  She  is  warmer  than  Dian  : 

She  rolls  through  an  ether  of  sighs,  40 

She  revels  in  a  region  of  sighs  : 
She  has  seen  that  the  tears  are  not  dry  on 

These  cheeks,  where  the  worm  never  dies, 


32  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

And  has  come  past  the  stars  of  the  Lion 

To  point  us  the  path  to  the  skies,  45 

To  the  Lethean  peace  of  the  skies : 
Come  up,  in  despite  of  the  Lion, 

To  shine  on  us  with  her  bright  eyes : 
Come  up  through  the  lair  of  the  Lion, 

With  love  in  her  luminous  eyes."  5° 

But  Psyche,  uplifting  her  finger, 

Said  —  "  Sadly  this  star  I  mistrust, 

Her  pallor  I  strangely  mistrust : 
Oh,  hasten  !  —  oh,  let  us  not  linger  ! 

Oh,  fly  !  —  let  us  fly  !  —  for  we  must."  55 

In  terror  she  spoke,  letting  sink  her 

Wings  until  they  trailed  in  the  dust ; 
In  agony  sobbed,  letting  sink  her 

Plumes  till  they  trailed  in  the  dust, 

Till  they  sorrowfully  trailed  in  the  dust.  60 

I  replied  —  "  This  is  nothing  but  dreaming  : 

Let  us  on  by  this  tremulous  light ! 

Let  us  bathe  in  this  crystalline  light ! 
Its  sibyllic  splendor  is  beaming 

With  hope  and  in  beauty  to-night :  65 

See,  it  flickers  up  the  sky  through  the  night  ! 
Ah,  we  safely  may  trust  to  its  gleaming, 

And  be  sure  it  will  lead  us  aright : 
We  safely  may  trust  to  a  gleaming 

That  cannot  but  guide  us  aright,  7° 

Since  it  flickers  up  to  Heaven  through  the  night." 

Thus  I  pacified  Psyche  and  kissed  her, 
And  tempted  her  out  of  her  gloom, 
And  conquered  her  scruples  and  gloom  ; 


TO 33 

And  we  passed  to  the  end  of  the  vista,  75 

But  were  stopped  by  the  door  of  a  tomb, 

By  the  door  of  a  legended  tomb  ; 
And  I  said  —  "  What  is  written,  sweet  sister, 

On  the  door  of  this  legended  tomb?  " 

She  replied  — ' '  Ulalume  —  Ulalume  —  80 

'T  is  the  vault  of  thy  lost  Ulalume  !  " 

Then  my  heart  it  grew  ashen  and  sober 

As  the  leaves  that  were  crisped  and  sere, 
As  the  leaves  that  were  withering  and  sere, 

And  I  cried  —  "It  was  surely  October  85 

On  this  very  night  of  last  year 
That  I  journeyed  —  I  journeyed  down  here, 
That  I  brought  a  dread  burden  down  here  : 
On  this  night  of  all  nights  in  the  year, 
Ah,  what  demon  has  tempted  me  here?  9C 

Well  I  know,  now,  this  dim  lake  of  Auber, 
This  misty  mid  region  of  Weir : 

Well  I  know,  now,  this  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 
This  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir." 


TO 

Not  long  ago  the  writer  of  these  lines, 

In  the  mad  pride  of  intellectuality, 

Maintained  "  the  power  of  words  "  —  denied  that  ever 

A  thought  arose  within  the  human  brain 

Beyond  the  utterance  of  the  human  tongue  :  5 

And  now,  as  if  in  mockery  of  that  boast, 

Two  words,  two  foreign  soft  dissyllables, 

Italian  tones,  made  only  to  be  murmured 

By  angels  dreaming  in  the  moonlit  "  dew 

That  hangs  like  chains  of  pearl  on  Hermon  hill,"  10 


34  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

Have  stirred  from  out  the  abysses  of  his  heart 

Unthought-like  thoughts,  that  are  the  souls  of  thought,  — 

Richer,  far  wilder,  far  diviner  visions 

Than  even  the  seraph  harper,  Israfel 

(Who  has  "  the  sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures  "  ),  15 

Could  hope  to  utter.    And  I  —  my  spells  are  broken  ; 

The  pen  falls  powerless  from  my  shivering  hand  ; 

With  thy  dear  name  as  text,  though  bidden  by  thee, 

I  cannot  write  —  I  cannot  speak  or  think  — 

Alas,  I  cannot  feel ;  for  't  is  not  feeling,  —  20 

This  standing  motionless  upon  the  golden 

Threshold  of  the  wide-open  gate  of  dreams, 

Gazing  entranced  adown  the  gorgeous  vista, 

And  thrilling  as  I  see,  upon  the  right, 

Upon  the  left,  and  all  the  way  along,  25 

Amid  empurpled  vapors,  far  away 

To  where  the  prospect  terminates  —  thee  only. 


AN  ENIGMA 

"  Seldom  we  find,"  says  Solomon  Don  Dunce, 
"  Half  an  idea  in  the  profoundest  sonnet. 

Through  all  the  flimsy  things  we  see  at  once 
As  easily  as  through  a  Naples  bonnet  — 
Trash  of  all  trash  !  how  can  a  lady  don  it  ?  5 

Yet  heavier  far  than  your  Petrarchan  stuff, 

Owl-downy  nonsense  that  the  faintest  puff 

Twirls  into  trunk-paper  the  while  you  con  it." 

And,  veritably,  Sol  is  right  enough. 

The  general  tuckermanities  are  arrant  10 

Bubbles,  ephemeral  and  so  transparent ; 
But  this  is,  now,  you  may  depend  upon  it, 

Stable,  opaque,  immortal  —  all  by  dint 

Of  the  dear  names  that  lie  concealed  within  't. 


TO   HELEN  35 

TO  HELEN 

I  saw  thee  once  —  once  only  —  years  ago  : 

I  must  not  say  how  many  —  but  not  many. 

It  was  a  July  midnight ;  and  from  out 

A  full-orbed  moon,  that,  like  thine  own  soul,  soaring 

Sought  a  precipitate  pathway  up  through  heaven,  5 

There  fell  a  silvery-silken  veil  of  light, 

With  quietude  and  sultriness  and  slumber, 

Upon  the  upturned  faces  of  a  thousand 

Roses  that  grew  in  an  enchanted  garden, 

Where  no  wind  dared  to  stir,  unless  on  tiptoe :  10 

Fell  on  the  upturned  faces  of  these  roses 

That  gave  out,  in  return  for  the  love -light, 

Their  odorous  souls  in  an  ecstatic  death  : 

Fell  on  the  upturned  faces  of  these  roses 

That  smiled  and  died  in  this  parterre,  enchanted  15 

By  thee,  and  by  the  poetry  of  thy  presence. 

Clad  all  in  white,  upon  a  violet  bank 

I  saw  thee  half  reclining ;  while  the  moon 

Fell  on  the  upturned  faces  of  the  roses, 

And  on  thine  own,  upturned  —  alas,  in  sorrow  !  20 

Was  it  not  Fate,  that,  on  this  July  midnight  — 

Was  it  not  Fate  (whose  name  is  also  Sorrow) 

That  bade  me  pause  before  that  garden-gate 

To  breathe  the  incense  of  those  slumbering  roses  ? 

No  footsteps  stirred  :   the  hated  world  all  slept,  25 

Save  only  thee  and  me  —  O  Heaven  !  O  God  ! 

How  my  heart  beats  in  coupling  those  two  words  !  — 

Save  only  thee  and  me.    I  paused,  I  looked, 

And  in  an  instant  all  things  disappeared. 

(Ah,  bear  in  mind  this  garden  was  enchanted  ! )  3° 

The  pearly  lustre  of  the  moon  went  out : 


36  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

The  mossy  banks  and  the  meandering  paths, 

The  happy  flowers  and  the  repining  trees, 

Were  seen  no  more  :   the  very  roses'  odors 

Died  in  the  arms  of  the  adoring  airs.  35 

All,  all  expired  save  thee  —  save  less  than  thou  : 

Save  only  the  divine  light  in  thine  eyes, 

Save  but  the  soul  in  thine  uplifted  eyes : 

I  saw  but  them  —  they  were  the  world  to  me  : 

I  saw  but  them,  saw  only  them  for  hours,  4° 

Saw  only  them  until  the  moon  went  down. 

What  wild  heart-histories  seem  to  lie  enwritten 

Upon  those  crystalline,  celestial  spheres ; 

How  dark  a  woe,  yet  how  sublime  a  hope ; 

How  silently  serene  a  sea  of  pride  ;  45 

How  daring  an  ambition  ;  yet  how  deep, 

How  fathomless  a  capacity  for  love  ! 

But  now,  at  length,  dear  Dian  sank  from  sight, 

Into  a  western  couch  of  thunder-cloud  ; 

And  thou,  a  ghost,  amid  the  entombing  trees  5° 

Didst  glide  away.    Only  thine  eyes  remained  : 

They  would  not  go  —  they  never  yet  have  gone  ; 

Lighting  my  lonely  pathway  home  that  night, 

They  have  not  left  me  (as  my  hopes  have)  since ; 

They  follow  me  —  they  lead  me  through  the  years ;        55 

They  are  my  ministers  —  yet  I  their  slave  ; 

Their  office  is  to  illumine  and  enkindle  — 

My  duty,  to  be  saved  by  their  bright  light, 

And  purified  in  their  electric  fire, 

And  sanctified  in  their  elysian  fire,  60 

They  fill  my  soul  with  beauty  (which  is  hope), 

And  are,  far  up  in  heaven,  the  stars  I  kneel  to 

In  the  sad,  silent  watches  of  my  night ; 

While  even  in  the  meridian  glare  of  day 

I  see  them  still  —  two  sweetly  scintillant  65 

Venuses,  unextinguished  by  the  sun. 


FOR  ANNIE  37 

A  VALENTINE       - 

For  her  this  rhyme  is  penned,  whose  luminous  eyes, 

Brightly  expressive  as  the  twins  of  Leda, 
Shall  find  her  own  sweet  name,  that  nestling  lies 

Upon  the  page,  enwrapped  from  every  reader. 
Search  narrowly  the  lines  !  they  hold  a  treasure  5 

Divine,  a  talisman,  an  amulet 
That  must  be  worn  at  heart.    Search  well  the  measure  — 

The  words  —  the  syllables.    Do  not  forget 
The  trivialest  point,  or  you  may  lose  your  labor : 

And  yet  there  is  in  this  no  Gordian  knot  10 

Which  one  might  not  undo  without  a  sabre, 

If  one  could  merely  comprehend  the  plot. 
Enwritten  upon  the  leaf  where  now  are  peering 

Eyes  scintillating  soul,  there  lie  perdus 
Three  eloquent  words  oft  uttered  in  the  hearing  15 

Of  poets,  by  poets  —  as  the  name  is  a  poet's,  too. 
Its  letters,  although  naturally  lying 

Like  the  knight  Pinto,  Mendez  Ferdinando, 
Still  form  a  synonym  for  Truth.  —  Cease  trying  ! 

You  will  not  read  the  riddle,  though  you  do  the  best  you 
can  do.  20 

FOR  ANNIE 

Thank  Heaven  !  the  crisis, 

The  danger,  is  past, 
And  the  lingering  illness 

Is  over  at  last, 
And  the  fever  called  "  Living  "  5 

Is  conquered  at  last. 

Sadly  I  know 

I  am  shorn  of  my  strength, 
And  no  muscle  I  move 

As  I  lie  at  full  length :  10 


38  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

But  no  matter  !  —  I  feel 
I  am  better  at  length. 

And  I  rest  so  composedly 

Now,  in  my  bed, 
That  any  beholder  15 

Might  fancy  me  dead, 
Might  start  at  beholding  me, 

Thinking  me  dead. 

The  moaning  and  groaning, 

The  sighing  and  sobbing,  20 

Are  quieted  now, 

With  that  horrible  throbbing 
At  heart :  —  ah,  that  horrible, 

Horrible  throbbing  ! 

The  sickness,  the  nausea,  25 

The  pitiless  pain, 
Have  ceased,  with  the  fever 

That  maddened  my  brain, 
With  the  fever  called  "  Living  " 

That  burned  in  my  brain.  3° 

And  oh  !  of  all  tortures, 

That  torture  the  worst 
Has  abated  —  the  terrible 

Torture  of  thirst 
For  the  naphthaline  river  35 

Of  Passion  accurst : 
I  have  drank  of  a  water 

That  quenches  all  thirst : 

Of  a  water  that  flows, 

With  a  lullaby  sound,  4° 


FOR  ANNIE  39 

From  a  spring  but  a  very  few 

Feet  under  ground, 
From  a  cavern  not  very  far 

Down  under  ground. 

And  ah  !  let  it  never  45 

Be  foolishly  said 
That  my  room  it  is  gloomy, 

And  narrow  my  bed ; 
For  man  never  slept 

In  a  different  bed  :  5° 

And,  to  sleep,  you  must  slumber 

In  just  such  a  bed. 

My  tantalized  spirit 

Here  blandly  reposes, 
Forgetting,  or  never  55 

Regretting,  its  roses : 
Its  old  agitations 

Of  myrtles  and  roses  ; 

For  now,  while  so  quietly 

Lying,  it  fancies  60 

A  holier  odor 

About  it,  of  pansies  : 
A  rosemary  odor, 

Commingled  with  pansies, 
With  rue  and  the  beautiful  65 

Puritan  pansies. 

And  so  it  lies  happily, 

Bathing  in  many 
A  dream  of  the  truth 

And  the  beauty  of  Annie,  7° 

Drowned  in  a  bath 

Of  the  tresses  of  Annie. 


40  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

She  tenderly  kissed  me, 

She  fondly  caressed, 
And  then  I  fell  gently  75 

To  sleep  on  her  breast, 
Deeply  to  sleep 

From  the  heaven  of  her  breast. 

When  the  light  was  extinguished, 

She  covered  me  warm,  80 

And  she  prayed  to  the  angels 
To  keep  me  from  harm, 

To  the  queen  of  the  angels 
To  shield  me  from  harm. 

And  I  lie  so  composedly  85 

Now,  in  my  bed, 
(Knowing  her  love) 

That  you  fancy  me  dead  ; 
And  I  rest  so  contentedly 

Now,  in  my  bed,  90 

(With  her  love  at  my  breast) 

That  you  fancy  me  dead, 
That  you  shudder  to  look  at  me, 

Thinking  me  dead. 

But  my  heart  it  is  brighter  95 

Than  all  of  the  many 
Stars  in  the  sky, 

For  it  sparkles  with  Annie  : 
It  glows  with  the  light 

Of  the  love  of  my  Annie,  100 

With  the  thought  of  the  light 

Of  the  eyes  of  my  Annie. 


THE   BELLS  41 

THE  BELLS 
I 

Hear  the  sledges  with  the  bells, 

Silver  bells  ! 

What  a  world  of  merriment  their  melody  foretells  ! 
How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle, 

In  the  icy  air  of  night !  5 

While  the  stars,  that  oversprinkle 
All  the  heavens,  seem  to  twinkle 

With  a  crystalline  delight ; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme,  10 

To  the  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  wells 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells  — 
From  the  jingling  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells. 

II 

Hear  the  mellow  wedding  bells,  15 

Golden  bells  ! 

What  a  world  of  happiness  their  harmony  foretells  ! 
Through  the  balmy  air  of  night 
How  they  ring  out  their  delight ! 

From  the  molten-golden  notes,  20 

And  all  in  tune, 
What  a  liquid  ditty  floats 
To  the  turtle-dove  that  listens,  while  she  gloats 

On  the  moon  ! 

Oh,  from  out  the  sounding  cells,  25 

What  a  gush  of  euphony  voluminously  wells  ! 
How  it  swells  ! 
How  it  dwells 

On  the  Future  !  how  it  tells 
Of  the  rapture  that  impels  3° 


42  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

To  the  swinging  and  the  ringing 

Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 
Bells,  bells,  bells  - 
To  the  rhyming  and  the  chiming  of  the  bells  !  35 

in 

Hear  the  loud  alarum  bells, 

Brazen  bells  ! 

What  a  tale  of  terror,  now,  their  turbulency  tells  ! 
In  the  startled  ear  of  night 

How  they  scream  out  their  affright !  40 

Too  much  horrified  to  speak, 
They  can  only  shriek,  shriek, 

Out  of  tune, 

In  a  clamorous  appealing  to  the  mercy  of  the  fire, 
In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and  frantic  fire,   45 
Leaping  higher,  higher,  higher, 
With  a  desperate  desire, 
And  a  resolute  endeavor 
Now  —  now  to  sit  or  never, 

By  the  side  of  the  pale-faced  moon.  50 

Oh,  the  bells,  bells,  bells  ! 
What  a  tale  their  terror  tells 

Of  Despair  ! 

How  they  clang,  and  clash,  and  roar ! 
What  a  horror  they  outpour  55 

On  the  bosom  of  the  palpitating  air  ! 
Yet  the  ear  it  fully  knows, 
By  the  twanging 
And  the  clanging, 

How  the  danger  ebbs  and  flows ;  60 

Yet  the  ear  distinctly  tells, 
In  the  jangling 
And  the  wrangling, 


THE   BELLS  43 

How  the  danger  sinks  and  swells,  —  64 

By  the  sinking  or  the  swelling  in  the  anger  of  the  bells, 

Of  the  bells, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells  - 
In  the  clamor  and  the  clangor  of  the  bells  ! 

IV 

Hear  the  tolling  of  the  bells,  7° 

Iron  bells ! 

What  a  world  of  solemn  thought  their  monody  compels ! 
In  the  silence  of  the  night 
How  we  shiver  with  affright 

At  the  melancholy  menace  of  their  tone  I  75 

For  every  sound  that  floats 
From  the  rust  within  their  throats 

Is  a  groan. 

And  the  people  —  ah,  the  people, 
They  that  dwell  up  in  the  steeple,  80 

All  alone, 
And  who  tolling,  tolling,  tolling 

In  that  muffled  monotone, 
Feel  a  glory  in  so  rolling 

On  the  human  heart  a  stone  —  85 

They  are  neither  man  nor  woman, 
They  are  neither  brute  nor  human, 

They  are  Ghouls : 
And  their  king  it  is  who  tolls  ; 
And  he  rolls,  rolls,  rolls,  9° 

Rolls 

A  paean  from  the  bells  ; 
And  his  merry  bosom  swells 

With  the  paean  of  the  bells, 

And  he  dances,  and  he  yells :  95 

Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 


44  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

To  the  paean  of  the  bells, 

Of  the  bells  : 

Keeping  time,  time,  time,  100, 

In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 

To  the  throbbing  of  the  bells, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells  - 

To  the  sobbing  of  the  bells ; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time,  105 

As  he  knells,  knells,  knells, 
In  a  happy  Runic  rhyme, 

To  the  rolling  of  the  bells, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells  : 

To  the  tolling  of  the  bells,  1 10 

Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells - 
To  the  moaning  and  the  groaning  of  the  bells. 


ANNABEL  LEE 

It  was  many  and  many  a  year  ago, 

In  a  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
That  a  maiden  there  lived  whom  you  may  know 

By  the  name  of  Annabel  Lee  ; 
And  this  maiden  she  lived  with  no  other  thought 

Than  to  love  and  be  loved  by  me. 

I  was  a  child  and  she  was  a  child, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
But  we  loved  with  a  love  that  was  more  than  love, 

I  and  my  Annabel  Lee  ; 
With  a  love  that  the  winged  seraphs  of  heaven 

Coveted  her  and  me. 

And  this  was  the  reason  that,  long  ago, 
In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 


ANNABEL   LEE  45 

A  wind  blew  out  of  a  cloud,  chilling  15 

My  beautiful  Annabel  Lee  ; 
So  that  her  highborn  kinsmen  came 

And  bore  her  away  from  me, 
To  shut  her  up  in  a  sepulchre 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea.  *  20 

The  angels,  not  half  so  happy  in  heaven, 

Went  envying  her  and  me  ; 
Yes  !  that  was  the  reason  (as  all  men  know, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea) 
That  the  wind  came  out  of  the  cloud  by  night,  25 

Chilling  and  killing  my  Annabel  Lee. 

But  our  love  it  was  stronger  by  far  than  the  love 

Of  those  who  were  older  than  we, 

Of  many  far  wiser  than  we ; 
And  neither  the  angels  in  heaven  above,  3° 

Nor  the  demons  down  under  the  sea, 
Can  ever  dissever  my  soul  from  the  soul 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee  : 

For  the  moon  never  beams,  without  bringing  me  dreams 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee  ;  35 

And  the  stars  never  rise,  but  I  feel  the  bright  eyes 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee  ; 
And  so,  all  the  night-tide,  I  lie  down  by  the  side 
Of  my  darling  —  my  darling  —  my  life  and  my  bride, 

In  her  sepulchre  there  by  the  sea,  40 

In  her  tomb  by  the  sounding  sea. 


46  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

TO  MY  MOTHER 

Because  I  feel  that,  in  the  Heavens  above, 

The  angels,  whispering  to  one  another, 
Can  find  among  their  burning  terms  of  love  — 

None  so  devotional  as  that  of  "  Mother," 
Therefore  by  that  dear  name  I  long  have  called  you  —      5 

You  who  are  more  than  mother  unto  me, 
And  fill  my  heart  of  hearts  where  Death  installed  you 

In  setting  my  Virginia's  spirit  free. 
My  mother,  my  own  mother,  who  died  early, 

Was  but  the  mother  of  myself  ;   but  you  10 

Are  mother  to  the  one  I  loved  so  dearly, 

And  thus  are  dearer  than  the  mother  I  knew 
By  that  infinity  with  which  my  wife 
Was  dearer  to  my  soul  than  its  soul-life. 


ELDORADO 

Gayly  bedight, 

A  gallant  knight, 
In  sunshine  and  in  shadow, 

Had  journeyed  long, 

Singing  a  song,  5 

In  search  of  Eldorado. 

But  he  grew  old, 

This  knight  so  bold, 
And  o'er  his  heart  a  shadow 

Fell  as  he  found  10 

No  spot  of  ground 
That  looked  like  Eldorado. 


ELDORADO  47 

And,  as  his  strength 

Failed  him  at  length, 
He  met  a  pilgrim  shadow :  15 

"  Shadow,"  said  he, 

"  Where  can  it  be, 
This  land  of  Eldorado?" 

"  Over  the  Mountains 

Of  the  Moon,  20 

Down  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow, 

Ride,  boldly  ride," 

The  shade  replied, 
66  If  you  seek  for  Eldorado  !  " 


TALES 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  USHER 

Son  coeur  est  un  luth  suspendu ; 
Sit6t  qu'on  le  touche  il  resonne. 

B^RANGER 

During  the  whole  of  a  dull,  dark,  and  soundless  day  in  the 
autumn  of  the  year,  when  the  clouds  hung  oppressively  low  in 
the  heavens,  I  had  been  passing  alone,  on  horseback,  through 
a  singularly  dreary  tract  of  country ;  and  at  length  found  my 
self,  as  the  shades  of  the  evening  drew  on,  within  view  of  the  5 
melancholy  House  of  Usher.  I  know  not  how  it  was  —  but, 
with  the  first  glimpse  of  the  building,  a  sense  of  insufferable 
gloom  pervaded  my  spirit.  I  say  insufferable ;  for  the  feeling 
was  unrelieved  by  any  of  that  half -pleasurable,  because  poetic, 
sentiment  with  which  the  mind  usually  receives  even  the  stern-  10 
est  natural  images  of  the  desolate  or  terrible.  I  looked  upon 
the  scene  before  me  —  upon  the  mere  house,  and  the  simple 
landscape  features  of  the  domain,  upon  the  bleak  walls,  upon 
the  vacant  eye-like  windows,  upon  a  few  rank  sedges,  and 
upon  a  few  white  trunks  of  decayed  trees  —  with  an  utter  15 
depression  of  soul  which  I  can  compare  to  no  earthly  sensa 
tion  more  properly  than  to  the  after-dream  of  the  reveller 
upon  opium  :  the  bitter  lapse  into  everyday  life,  the  hideous 
dropping  off  of  the  veil.  There  was  an  iciness,  a  sinking,  a 
sickening  of  the  heart,  an  unredeemed  dreariness  of  thought  20 
which  no  goading  of  the  imagination  could  torture  into  aught 
of  the  sublime.  What  was  it  —  I  paused  to  think  —  what  was 
it  that  so  unnerved  me  in  the  contemplation  of  the  House  of 

49 


50  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

Usher?  It  was  a  mystery  all  insoluble  ;  nor  could  I  grapple 
with  the  shadowy  fancies  that  crowded  upon  me  as  I  pondered. 
I  was  forced  to  fall  back  upon  the  unsatisfactory  conclusion, 
that  while,  beyond  doubt,  there  are  combinations  of  very 
5  simple  natural  objects  which  have  the  power  of  thus  affecting 
us,  still  the  analysis  of  this  power  lies  among  considerations 
beyond  our  depth.  It  was  possible,  I  reflected,  that  a  mere 
different  arrangement  of  the  particulars  of  the  scene,  of  the 
details  of  the  picture,  would  be  sufficient  to  modify,  or  per- 

10  haps  to  annihilate,  its  capacity  for  sorrowful  impression ;  and 
acting  upon  this  idea,  I  reined  my  horse  to  the  precipitous 
brink  of  a  black  and  lurid  tarn  that  lay  in  unruffled  lustre  by 
the  dwelling,  and  gazed  down  —  but  with  a  shudder  even 
more  thrilling  than  before  —  upon  the  remodelled  and  inverted 

15  images  of  the  gray  sedge,  and  the  ghastly  tree-stems,  and  the 
vacant  and  eye-like  windows. 

Nevertheless,  in  this  mansion  of  gloom  I  now  proposed  to 
myself  a  sojourn  of  some  weeks.  Its  proprietor,  Roderick 
Usher,  had  been  one  of  my  boon  companions  in  boyhood; 

20  but  many  years  had  elapsed  since  our  last  meeting.  A  letter, 
however,  had  lately  reached  me  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
country  —  a  letter  from  him  —  which  in  its  wildly  importu 
nate  nature  had  admitted  of  no  other  than  a  personal  reply. 
The  MS.  gave  evidence  of  nervous  agitation.  The  writer 

25  spoke  of  acute  bodily  illness,  of  a  mental  disorder  which 
oppressed  him,  and  of  an  earnest  desire  to  see  me,  as  his 
best  and  indeed  his  only  personal  friend,  with  a  view  of 
attempting,  by  the  cheerfulness  of  my  society,  some  allevia 
tion  of  his  malady.  It  was  the  manner  in  which  all  this,  and 

30  much  more,  was  said  —  it  was  the  apparent  heart  that  went 
with  his  request  —  which  allowed  me  no  room  for  hesitation; 
and  I  accordingly  obeyed  forthwith  what  I  still  considered  a 
very  singular  summons. 

Although  as  boys  we  had  been  even  intimate  associates, 

35  yet  I  really  knew  little  of  my  friend.    His  reserve  had  been 


THE    FALL   OF   THE   HOUSE   OF    USHER         51 

always  excessive  and  habitual.  I  was  aware,  however,  that 
his  very  ancient  family  had  been  noted,  time  out  of  mind, 
for  a  peculiar  sensibility  of  temperament,  displaying  itself, 
through  long  ages,  in  many  works  of  exalted  art,  and  mani 
fested  of  late  in  repeated  deeds  of  munificent  yet  unobtru-  5 
sive  charity,  as  well  as  in  a  passionate  devotion  to  the  intrica 
cies,  perhaps  even  more  than  to  the  orthodox  and  easily 
recognizable  beauties,  of  musical  science.  I  had  learned,  too, 
the  very  remarkable  fact  that  the  stem  of  the  Usher  race,  all 
time-honored  as  it  was,  had  put  forth  at  no  period  any  endur-  10 
ing  branch ;  in  other  words,  that  the  entire  family  lay  in  the 
direct  line  of  descent,  and  had  always,  with  very  trifling  and 
very  temporary  variation,  so  lain.  It  was  this  deficiency,  I 
considered,  while  running  over  in  thought  the  perfect  keep 
ing  of  the  character  of  the  premises  with  the  accredited  15 
character  of  the  people,  and  while  speculating  upon  the  pos 
sible  influence  which  the  one,  in  the  long  lapse  of  centuries, 
might  have  exercised  upon  the  other  —  it  was  this  deficiency, 
perhaps,  of  collateral  issue,  and  the  consequent  undeviating 
transmission  from  sire  to  son  of  the  patrimony  with  the  name,  20 
which  had,  at  length,  so  identified  the  two  as  to  merge  the 
original  title  of  the  estate  in  the  quaint  and  equivocal  appel 
lation  of  the  "  House  of  Usher "  —  an  appellation  which 
seemed  to  include,  in  the  minds  of  the  peasantry  who  used 
it,  both  the  family  and  the  family  mansion.  25 

I  have  said  that  the  sole  effect  of  my  somewhat  childish 
experiment,  that  of  looking  down  within  the  tarn,  had  been 
to  deepen  the  first  singular  impression.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  consciousness  of  the  rapid  increase  of  my 
superstition  —  for  w^hy  should  I  not  so  term  it? — served  30 
mainly  to  accelerate  the  increase  itself.  Such,  I  have  long 
known,  is  the  paradoxical  law  of  all  sentiments  having  terror 
as  a  basis.  And  it  might  have  been  for  this  reason  only,  that, 
when  I  again  uplifted  my  eyes  to  the  house  itself,  from  its 
image  in  the  pool,  there  grew  in  my  mind  a  strange  fancy  —  35 


52  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

a  fancy  so  ridiculous,  indeed,  that  I  but  mention  it  to  shovv 
the  vivid  force  of  the  sensations  which  oppressed  me.  I  had 
so  worked  upon  my  imagination  as  really  to  believe  that 
about  the  whole  mansion  and  domain  there  hung  an  atmos- 
5  phere  peculiar  to  themselves  and  their  immediate  vicinity  : 
an  atmosphere  which  had  no  affinity  with  the  air  of  heaven, 
but  which  had  reeked  up  from  the  decayed  trees,  and  the 
gray  wall,  and  the  silent  tarn  :  a  pestilent  and  mystic  vapor, 
dull,  sluggish,  faintly  discernible,  and  leaden-hued. 

10  Shaking  off  from  my  spirit  what  must  have  been  a  dream,  I 
scanned  more  narrowly  the  real  aspect  of  the  building.  Its 
principal  feature  seemed  to  be  that  of  an  excessive  antiquity. 
The  discoloration  of  ages  had  been  great.  Minute  fungi 
overspread  the  whole  exterior,  hanging  in  a  fine  tangled  web- 

15  work  from  the  eaves.  Yet  all  this  was  apart  from  any  extraor 
dinary  dilapidation.  No  portion  of  the  masonry  had  fallen ; 
and  there  appeared  to  be  a  wild  inconsistency  between  its 
still  perfect  adaptation  of  parts  and  the  crumbling  condition 
of  the  individual  stones.  In  this  there  was  much  that  re- 

20  minded  one  of  the  specious  totality  of  old  wood-work  which 
has  rotted  for  long  years  in  some  neglected  vault,  with  no 
disturbance  from  the  breath  of  the  external  air.  Beyond  this 
indication  of  extensive  decay,  however,  the  fabric  gave  little 
token  of  instability.  Perhaps  the  eye  of  a  scrutinizing  observer 

25  might  have  discovered  a  barely  perceptible  fissure,  which, 
extending  from  the  roof  of  the  building  in  front,  made  its 
way  down  the  wall  in  a  zigzag  direction,  until  it  became  lost 
in  the  sullen  waters  of  the  tarn. 

Noticing  these  things,  I  rode  over  a  short  causeway  to  the 

30  house.  A  servant  in  waiting  took  my  horse,  and  I  entered  the 
Gothic  archway  of  the  hall.  A  valet,  of  stealthy  step,  thence 
conducted  me,  in  silence,  through  many  dark  and  intricate 
passages  in  my  progress  to  the  studio  of  his  master.  Much 
that  I  encountered  on  the  way  contributed,  I  know  not  how, 

35  to  heighten  the  vague  sentiments  of  which  I  have  already 


THE   FALL  OF   THE   HOUSE   OF  USHER         53 

spoken.  While  the  objects  around  me  —  while  the  carvings 
of  the  ceilings,  the  sombre  tapestries  of  the  walls,  the  ebon 
blackness  of  the  floors,  and  the  phantasmagoric  armorial 
trophies  which  rattled  as  I  strode,  were  but  matters  to  which, 
or  to  such  as  which,  I  had  been  accustomed  from  my  infancy  5 
—  while  I  hesitated  not  to  acknowledge  how  familiar  was  all 
this  —  I  still  wondered  to  find  how  unfamiliar  were  the  fancies 
which  ordinary  images  were  stirring  up.  On  one  of  the  stair 
cases,  I  met  the  physician  of  the  family.  His  countenance,  I 
thought,  wore  a  mingled  expression  of  low  cunning  and  per-  10 
plexity..  He  accosted  me  with  trepidation  and  passed  on. 
The  valet  now  threw  open  a  door  and  ushered  me  into  the 
presence  of  his  master. 

The   room  in  which  I  found  myself  was  very  large  and 
lofty.    The  windows  were  long,  narrow,  and  pointed,  and  at  15 
so  vast  a  distance  from  the  black  oaken  floor  as  to  be  alto 
gether  inaccessible  from  within.    Feeble   gleams  of  encrim- 
soned  light  made  their  way  through  the  trellised  panes,  and 
served    to   render  sufficiently  distinct   the   more   prominent 
objects  around ;  the  eye,  however,  struggled  in  vain  to  reach  20 
the  remoter  angles  of  the  chamber,  or  the  recesses  of  the 
vaulted  and  fretted  ceiling.    Dark  draperies  hung  upon  the 
walls.    The  general  furniture  was  profuse,  comfortless,  antique, 
and  tattered.    Many  books  and  musical  instruments  lay  scat 
tered  about,  but  failed  to  give  any  vitality  to  the  scene.    I  felt  25 
that  I  breathed  an  atmosphere  of  sorrow.    An  air  of  stern, 
deep,  and  irredeemable  gloom  hung  over  and  pervaded  all. 

Upon  my  entrance,  Usher  arose  from  a  sofa  on  which  he 
had  been  lying  at  full  length,  and  greeted  me  with  a  vivacious 
warmth  which  had  much  in  it,  I  at  first  thought,  of  an  over-  30 
done  cordiality  —  of  the  constrained  effort  of  the  ennuye  man 
of  the  world.  A  glance,  however,  at  his  countenance,  con 
vinced  me  of  his  perfect  sincerity.  We  sat  down ;  and  for 
some  moments,  while  he  spoke  not,  I  gazed  upon  him  with  a 
feeling  half  of  pity,  half  of  awe.  Surely  man  had  never  before  35 


54  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

so  terribly  altered,  in  so  brief  a  period,  as  had  Roderick 
Usher !  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  bring  myself  to 
admit  the  identity  of  the  wan  being  before  me  with  the  com 
panion  of  my  early  boyhood.  Yet  the  character  of  his  face 
5  had  been  at  all  times  remarkable.  A  cadaverousness  of  com 
plexion;  an  eye  large,  liquid,  and  luminous  beyond  compari 
son  ;  lips  somewhat  thin  and  very  pallid,  but  of  a  surpassingly 
beautiful  curve  ;  a  nose  of  a  delicate  Hebrew  model,  but  with 
a  breadth  of  nostril  unusual  in  similar  formations ;  a  finely 

10  moulded  chin,  speaking,  in  its  want  of  prominence,  of  a  want 
of  moral  energy ;  hair  of  a  more  than  web-like  softness  and 
tenuity;  these  features,  with  an  inordinate  expansion  above 
the  regions  of  the  temple,  made  up  altogether  a  countenance 
not  easily  to  be  forgotten.  And  now  in  the  mere  exaggera- 

15  tion  of  the  prevailing  character  of  these  features,  and  of  the 
expression  they  were  wont  to  convey,  lay  so  much  of  change 
that  I  doubted  to  whom  I  spoke.  The  now  ghastly  pallor  of 
the  skin,  and  the  now  miraculous  lustre  of  the  eye,  above  all 
things  startled  and  even  awed  me.  The  silken  hair,  too,  had 

20  been  suffered  to  grow  all  unheeded,  and  as,  in  its  wild  gos 
samer  texture,  it  floated  rather  than  fell  about  the  face,  I 
could  not,  even  with  effort,  connect  its  arabesque  expression 
with  any  idea  of  simple  humanity. 

In  the  manner  of  my  friend  I  was  at  once  struck  with  an 

25  incoherence,  an  inconsistency ;  and  I  soon  found  this  to  arise 
from  a  series  of  feeble  and  futile  struggles  to  overcome  an 
habitual  trepidancy,  an  excessive  nervous  agitation.  For  some 
thing  of  this  nature  I  had  indeed  been  prepared,  no  less  by  his 
letter  than  by  reminiscences  of  certain  boyish  traits,  and  by 

30  conclusions  deduced  from  his  peculiar  physical  conformation 
and  temperament.  His  action  was  alternately  vivacious  and 
sullen.  His  voice  varied  rapidly  from  a  tremulous  indecision 
(when  the  animal  spirits  seemed  utterly  in  abeyance)  to  that 
species  of  energetic  concision — that  abrupt,  weighty,  unhurried, 

35  and  hollow-sounding  enunciation  —  that  leaden,  self-balanced 


THE   FALL   OF   THE   HOUSE    OF   USHER         55 

and  perfectly  modulated  guttural  utterance  —  which  may  be 
observed  in  the  lost  drunkard,  or  the  irreclaimable  eater  of 
opium,  during  the  periods  of  his  most  intense  excitement. 

It  was  thus  that  he  spoke  of  the  object  of  my  visit,  of  his 
earnest  desire  to  see  me,  and  of  the  solace  he  expected  me  to  5 
afford  him.  He  entered,  at  some  length,  into  what  he  con 
ceived  to  be  the  nature  of  his  malady.  It  was,  he  said,  a  con 
stitutional  and  a  family  evil,  and  one  for  which  he  despaired 
to  find  a  remedy  —  a  mere  nervous  affection,  he  immediately 
added,  which  would  undoubtedly  soon  pass  off.  It  displayed  10 
itself  in  a  host  of  unnatural  sensations.  Some  of  these,  as  he 
detailed  them,  interested  and  bewildered  me ;  although,  per 
haps,  the  terms  and  the  general  manner  of  the  narration  had 
their  weight.  He  suffered  much  from  a  morbid  acuteness  of  the 
senses ;  the  most  insipid  food  was  alone  endurable  ;  he  could  15 
wear  only  garments  of  certain  texture  ;  the  odors  of  all  flowers 
were  oppressive  ;  his  eyes  were  tortured  by  even  a  faint  light ; 
and  there  were  but  peculiar  sounds,  and  these  from  stringed 
instruments,  which  did  not  inspire  him  with  horror. 

To  an  anomalous  species  of  terror  I  found  him  a  bounden  20 
slave.  "  I  shall  perish,"  said  he,  "  I  must  perish  in  this  deplor 
able  folly.  Thus,  thus,  and  not  otherwise,  shall  I  be  lost.  I 
dread  the  events  of  the  future,  not  in  themselves,  but  in  their 
results.  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  any,  even  the  most  trivial, 
incident,  which  may  operate  upon  this  intolerable  agitation  of  25 
soul.  I  have,  indeed,  no  abhorrence  of  danger,  except  in  its 
absolute  effect  —  in  terror.  In  this  unnerved  —  in  this  pitiable 
condition,  I  feel  that  the  period  will  sooner  or  later  arrive  when 
I  must  abandon  life  and  reason  together,  in  some  struggle  with 
the  grim  phantasm,  FEAR."  30 

I  learned  moreover  at  intervals,  and  through  broken  and 
equivocal  hints,  another  singular  feature  of  his  mental  condi 
tion.  He  was  enchained  by  certain  superstitious  impressions 
in  regard  to  the  dwelling  which  he  tenanted,  and  whence,  for 
many  years,  he  had  never  ventured  forth  —  in  regard  to  an  35 


56  SELECTIONS   FROM    FOE 

influence  whose  supposititious  force  was  conveyed  in  terms 
too  shadowy  here  to  be  re-stated  —  an  influence  which  some 
peculiarities  in  the  mere  form  and  substance  of  his  family 
mansion,  had,  by  dint  of  long  sufferance,  he  said,  obtained 
5  over  his  spirit  —  an  effect  which  the  physique  of  the  gray  walls 
and  turrets,  and  of  the  dim  tarn  into  which  they  all  looked 
down,  had,  at  length,  brought  about  upon  the  morale  of  his 
existence. 

He  admitted,  however,  although  with  hesitation,  that  much 

10  of  the  peculiar  gloom  which  thus  afflicted  him  could  be  traced 
to  a  more  natural  and  far  more  palpable  origin  —  to  the  severe 
and  long-continued  illness,  indeed  to  the  evidently  approaching 
dissolution,  of  a  tenderly  beloved  sister  —  his  sole  companion 
for  long  years,  his  last  and  only  relative  on  earth.  "  Her 

15  decease,"  he  said,  with  a  bitterness  which  I  can  never  forget, 
"  would  leave  him  (him  the  hopeless  and  the  frail)  the  last  of 
the  ancient  race  of  the  Ushers."  While  he  spoke,  the  lady 
Madeline  (for  so  was  she  called)  passed  slowly  through  a 
remote  portion  of  the  apartment,  and,  without  having  noticed 

20  my  presence,  disappeared.  I  regarded  her  with  an  uttei 
astonishment  not  unmingled  with  dread,  and  yet  I  found  it 
impossible  to  account  for  such  feelings.  A  sensation  of  stupor 
oppressed  me,  as  my  eyes  followed  her  retreating  steps. 
When  a  door,  at  length,  closed  upon  her,  my  glance  sought 

25  instinctively  and  eagerly  the  countenance  of  the  brother  ;  but 

he  had  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  I  could  only  perceive 

that  a  far  more  than  ordinary  wanness  had  overspread  the 

emaciated  fingers  through  which  trickled  many  passionate  tears. 

The  disease  of  the  lady  Madeline  had  long  baffled  the  skill 

30  of  her  physicians.  A  settled  apathy,  a  gradual  wasting  away  of 
the  person,  and  frequent  although  transient  affections  of  a 
partially  cataleptical  character,  were  the  unusual  diagnosis. 
Hitherto  she  had  steadily  borne  up  against  the  pressure  of  her 
malady,  and  had  not  betaken  herself  finally  to  bed ;  but,  on 

35  the  closing  in  of  the  evening  of  my  arrival  at  the  house,  she 


THE   FALL   OF   THE   HOUSE   OF   USHER         57 

succumbed  (as  her  brother  told  me  at  night  with  inexpressible 
agitation)  to  the  prostrating  power  of  the  destroyer;  and  I 
learned  that  the  glimpse  I  had  obtained  of  her  person  would 
thus  probably  be  the  last  I  should  obtain  —  that  the  lady,  at 
least  while  living,  would  be  seen  by  me  no  more.  5 

For  several  days  ensuing,  her  name  was  unmentioned  by 
either  Usher  or  myself ;  and  during  this  period  I  was  busied 
in  earnest  endeavors  to  alleviate  the  melancholy  of  my  friend. 
We  painted  and  read  together;  or  I  listened,  as  if  in  a  dream, 
to  the  wild  improvisations  of  his  speaking  guitar.  And  thus,  10 
as  a  closer  and  still  closer  intimacy  admitted  me  more  unre 
servedly  into  the  recesses  of  his  spirit,  the  more  bitterly  did  I 
perceive  the  futility  of  all  attempt  at  cheering  a  mind  from 
which  darkness,  as  if  an  inherent  positive  quality,  poured  forth 
upon  all  objects  of  the  moral  and  physical  universe,  in  one  15 
unceasing  radiation  of  gloom. 

I  shall  ever  bear  about  me  a  memory  of  the  many  solemn 
hours  I  thus  spent  alone  with  the  master  of  the  House  of 
Usher.  Yet  I  should  fail  in  any  attempt  to  convey  an  idea  of 
the  exact  character  of  the  studies,  or  of  the  occupations,  in  20 
which  he  involved  me,  or  led  me  the  way.  An  excited  and 
highly  distempered  ideality  threw  a  sulphureous  lustre  over  all. 
His  long  improvised  dirges  will  ring  forever  in  my  ears. 
Among  other  things,  I  hold  painfully  in  mind  a  certain  singu 
lar  perversion  and  amplification  of  the  wild  air  of  the  last  25 
waltz  of  Von  Weber.  From  the  paintings  over  which  his  elabo 
rate  fancy  brooded,  and  which  grew,  touch  by  touch,  into 
vaguenesses  at  which  I  shuddered  the  more  thrillingly  because 
I  shuddered  knowing  not  why; — from  these  paintings  (vivid 
as  their  images  now  are  before  me)  I  would  in  vain  endeavor  30 
to  educe  more  than  a  small  portion  which  should  lie  within  the 
compass  of  merely  written  words.  By  the  utter  simplicity,  by 
the  nakedness  of  his  designs,  he  arrested  and  overawed  atten 
tion.  If  ever  mortal  painted  an  idea,  that  mortal  was  Roderick 
Usher.  For  me  at  least,  in  the  circumstances  then  surrounding  35 


58  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

me,  there  arose,  out  of  the  pure  abstractions  which  the  hypo 
chondriac  contrived  to  throw  upon  his  canvas,  an  intensity 
of  intolerable  awe,  no  shadow  of  which  felt  I  ever  yet  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  certainly  glowing  yet  too  concrete  rev- 
5  eries  of  Fuseli. 

One  of  the  phantasmagoric  conceptions  of  my  friend,  par 
taking  not  so  rigidly  of  the  spirit  of  abstraction,  may  be 
shadowed  forth,  although  feebly,  in  words.  A  small  picture 
presented  the  interior  of  an  immensely  long  and  rectangular 

10  vault  or  tunnel,  with  low  walls,  smooth,  white,  and  without 
interruption  or  device.  Certain  accessory  points  of  the  design 
served  well  to  convey  the  idea  that  this  excavation  lay  at  an 
exceeding  depth  below  the  surface  of  the  earth.  No  outlet 
was  observed  in  any  portion  of  its  vast  extent,  and  no  torch  or 

15  other  artificial  source  of  light  was  discernible ;  yet  a  flood  of 
intense  rays  rolled  throughout,  and  bathed  the  whole  in  a 
ghastly  and  inappropriate  splendor. 

I  have  just  spoken  of  that  morbid  condition  of  the  auditory 
nerve  which  rendered  all  music  intolerable  to  the  sufferer,  with 

20  the  exception  of  certain  effects  of  stringed  instruments.  It 
was,  perhaps,  the  narrow  limits  to  which  he  thus  confined  him 
self  upon  the  guitar,  which  gave  birth,  in  great  measure,  to  the 
fantastic  character  of  his  performances.  But  the  fervid  facility 
of  his  impromptus  could  not  be  so  accounted  for.  They  must 

25  have  been,  and  were,  in  the  notes,  as  well  as  in  the  words  of 
his  wild  fantasias  (for  he  not  unfrequently  accompanied  him 
self  with  rhymed  verbal  improvisations),  the  result  of  that 
intense  mental  collectedness  and  concentration  to  which  I  have 
previously  alluded  as  observable  only  in  particular  moments  of 

30  the  highest  artificial  excitement.  The  words  of  one  of  these 
rhapsodies  I  have  easily  remembered.  I  was,  perhaps,  the 
more  forcibly  impressed  with  it,  as  he  gave  it,  because,  in  the 
under  or  mystic  current  of  its  meaning,  I  fancied  that  I  per 
ceived,  and  for  the  first  time,  a  full  consciousness,  on  the  part 

35  of  Usher,  of  the  tottering  of  his  lofty  reason  upon  her  throne. 


THE    FALL   OF  THE   HOUSE   OF   USHER         59 

The  verses,  which  were  entitled  "The  Haunted  Palace,"  ran 
very  nearly,  if  not  accurately,  thus  :  — 


In  the  greenest  of  our  valleys 

By  good  angels  tenanted, 
Once  a  fair  and  stately  palace —  5 

Radiant  palace  —  reared  its  head. 
In  the  monarch  Thought's  dominion, 

It  stood  there ; 
Never  seraph  spread  a  pinion 

Over  fabric  half  so  fair.  10 

II 

Banners  yellow,  glorious,  golden, 

On  its  roof  did  float  and  flow, 
(This  —  all  this  —  was  in  the  olden 

Time  long  ago) 
And  every  gentle  air  that  dallied,  15 

In  that  sweet  day, 
Along  the  ramparts  plumed  and  pallid, 

A  winge*d  odor  went  away. 

Ill 

Wanderers  in  that  happy  valley 

Through  two  luminous  windows  saw  20 

Spirits  moving  musically 

To  a  lute's  well-tune'd  law, 
Round  about  a  throne  where,  sitting, 

Porphyrogene, 
In  state  his  glory  well  befitting,  25 

The  ruler  of  the  realm  was  seen. 


IV 

And  all  with  pearl  and  ruby  glowing 

Was  the  fair  palace  door, 
Through  which  came  flowing,  flowing,  flowing, 

And  sparkling  evermore,  3° 


60  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

A  troop  of  Echoes  whose  sweet  duty 

Was  but  to  sing, 
In  voices  of  surpassing  beauty, 

The  wit  and  wisdom  of  their  king. 


But  evil  things,  in  robes  of  sorrow, 

Assailed  the  monarch's  high  estate  ; 
(Ah,  let  us  mourn,  for  never  morrow 

Shall  dawn  upon  him,  desolate  !) 
And  round  about  his  home  the  glory 

That  blushed  and  bloomed 
Is  but  a  dim-remembered  story 

Of  the  old  time  entombed. 


VI 

And  travellers  now  within  that  valley 
Through  the  red-litten  windows  see 
15  Vast  forms  that  move  fantastically 

To  a  discordant  melody  ; 
While,  like  a  ghastly  rapid  river, 

Through  the  pale  door 
A  hideous  throng  rush  out  forever, 
20  And  laugh  —  but  smile  no  more. 

I  well  remember  that  suggestions  arising  from  this  ballad 
led  us  into  a  train  of  thought,  wherein  there  became  manifest 
an  opinion  of  Usher's  which  I  mention  not  so  much  on  account 
of  its  novelty,  (for  other  men  l  have  thought  thus,)  as  on  ac- 
25  count  of  the  pertinacity  with  which  he  maintained  it.  This 
opinion,  in  its  general  form,  was  that  of  the  sentience  of  all 
vegetable  things.  But  in  his  disordered  fancy  the  idea  had 
assumed  a  more  daring  character,  and  trespassed,  under  certain 
conditions,  upon  the  kingdom  of  inorganization.  I  lack  words 

1  Watson,  Dr.  Percival,  Spallanzani,  and  especially  the  Bishop  of 
Landaff.  — See  "Chemical  Essays,"  Vol.  V. 


THE    FALL   OF   THE   HOUSE   OF   USHER         6l 

to  express  the  full  extent,  or  the  earnest  abandon  of  hio 
persuasion.  The  belief,  however,  was  connected  (as  I  have  pre 
viously  hinted)  with  the  gray  stones  of  the  home  of  his  fore 
fathers.  The  conditions  of  the  sentience  had  been  here,  he 
imagined,  fulfilled  in  the  method  of  collocation  of  these  stones  5 
—  in  the  order  of  their  arrangement,  as  well  as  in  that  of  the 
many  fungi  which  overspread  them,  and  of  the  decayed  trees 
which  stood  around  —  above  all,  in  the  long  undisturbed  en 
durance  of  this  arrangement,  and  in  its  reduplication  in  the 
still  waters  of  the  tarn.  Its  evidence — the  evidence  of  the  10 
sentience  —  was  to  be  seen,  he  said  (and  I  here  started  as  he 
spoke),  in  the  gradual  yet  certain  condensation  of  an  atmos 
phere  of  their  own  about  the  waters  and  the  walls.  The  result 
was  discoverable,  he  added,  in  that  silent,  yet  importunate 
and  terrible  influence  which  for  centuries  had  moulded  the  15 
destinies  of  his  family,  and  which  made  him  what  I  now  saw 
him  —  what  he  was.  Such  opinions  need  no  comment,  and  I 
will  make  none. 

Our  books  —  the  books  which,  for  years,  had  formed  no 
small  portion  of  the  mental  existence  of  the  invalid  —  were,  20 
as  might  be  supposed,  in  strict  keeping  with  this  character  of 
phantasm.  We  pored  together  over  such  works  as  the  Ververt 
and  Chartreuse  of  Cresset ;  the  Belphegor  of  Machiavelli ; 
the  Heaven  and  Hell  of  Swedenborg;  the  Subterranean 
Voyage  of  Nicholas  Klimm  by  Holberg ;  the  Chiromancy  of  25 
Robert  Find,  of  Jean  D'Indagine,  and  of  De  la  Chambre  ;  the 
Journey  into  the  Blue  Distance  of  Tieck ;  and  the  City  of  the 
Sun  of  Campanella.  One  favorite  volume  was  a  small  octavo 
edition  of  the  Directorium  Inquisitorum,  by  the  Dominican 
Eymeric  de  Gironne;  and  there  were  passages  in  Pomponius  30 
Mela,  about  the  old  African  Satyrs  and  /Egipans,  over  which 
Usher  would  sit  dreaming  for  hours.  His  chief  delight,  however, 
was  found  in  the  perusal  of  an  exceedingly  rare  and  curious  book 
in  quarto  Gothic  —  the  manual  of  a  forgotten  church  —  the 
Vigilia  Mortuorum  secundum  Chorum  Ecclesice.  Maguntince.  35 


62  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  wild  ritual  of  this  work, 
and  of  its  probable  influence  upon  the  hypochondriac,  when 
one  evening,  having  informed  me  abruptly  that  the  lady 
Madeline  was  no  more,  he  stated  his  intention  of  preserving 
5  her  corpse  for  a  fortnight,  (previously  to  its  final  interment,)  in 
one  of  the  numerous  vaults  within  the  main  walls  of  the  build 
ing.  The  worldly  reason,  however,  assigned  for  this  singular 
proceeding,  was  one  which  I  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  dis 
pute.  The  brother  had  been  led  to  his  resolution  (so  he  told 

10  me)  by  consideration  of  the  unusual  character  of  the  malady 
of  the  deceased,  of  certain  obtrusive  and  eager  inquiries  on 
the  part  of  her  medical  men,  and  of  the  remote  and  exposed 
situation  of  the  burial-ground  of  the  family.  I  will  not  deny 
that  when  I  called  to  mind  the  sinister  countenance  of  the 

15  person  whom  I  met  upon  the  staircase,  on  the  day  of  my 
arrival  at  the  house,  I  had  no  desire  to  oppose  what  I  regarded 
as  at  best  but  a  harmless,  and  by  no  means  an  unnatural, 
precaution. 

At  the  request  of  Usher,  I   personally  aided  him  in  the 

20  arrangements  for  the  temporary  entombment.  The  body 
having  been  encofnned,  we  two  alone  bore  it  to  its  rest.  The 
vault  in  which  we  placed  it  (and  which  had  been  so  long  un 
opened  that  our  torches,  half  smothered  in  its  oppressive 
atmosphere,  gave  us  little  opportunity  for  investigation)  was 

25  small,  damp,  and  entirely  without  means  of  admission  for  light ; 
lying,  at  great  depth,  immediately  beneath  that  portion  of  the 
building  in  which  was  my  own  sleeping  apartment.  It  had 
been  used,  apparently,  in  remote  feudal  times,  for  the  worst 
purposes  of  a  donjon-keep,  and  in  later  days  as  a  place  of 

30  deposit  for  powder,  or  some  other  highly  combustible  sub 
stance,  as  a  portion  of  its  floor,  and  the  whole  interior  of  a 
long  archway  through  which  we  reached  it,  were  carefully 
sheathed  with  copper.  The  door,  of  massive  iron,  had  been, 
also,  similarly  protected.  Its  immense  weight  caused  an  un- 

35  usually  sharp  grating  sound,  as  it  moved  upon  its  hinges. 


THE   FALL   OF  THE   HOUSE   OF    USHER         63 

Having  deposited  our  mournful  burden  upon  tressels  within 
this  region  of  horror,  we  partially  turned  aside  the  yet  un 
screwed  lid  of  the  coffin,  and  looked  upon  the  face  of  the 
tenant.  A  striking  similitude  between  the  brother  and  sister 
now  first  arrested  my  attention  ;  and  Usher,  divining,  perhaps,  5 
my  thoughts,  murmured  out  some  few  words  from  which  I 
learned  that  the  deceased  and  himself  had  been  twins,  and 
that  sympathies  of  a  scarcely  intelligible  nature  had  always 
existed  between  them.  Our  glances,  however,  rested  not  long 
upon  the  dead  —  for  we  could  not  regard  her  unawed.  The  10 
disease  which  had  thus  entombed  the  lady  in  the  maturity  of 
youth,  had  left,  as  usual  in  all  maladies  of  a  strictly  cataleptical 
character,  the  mockery  of  a  faint  blush  upon  the  bosom  and 
the  face,  and  that  suspiciously  lingering  smile  upon  the  lip 
which  is  so  terrible  in  death.  We  replaced  and  screwed  down  15 
the  lid,  and,  having  secured  the  door  of  iron,  made  our  way, 
with  toil,  into  the  scarcely  less  gloomy  apartments  of  the  upper 
portion  of  the  house. 

And  now,  some  days  of  bitter  grief  having  elapsed,  an 
observable  change  came  over  the  features  of  the  mental  dis-  20 
order  of  my  friend.  His  ordinary  manner  had  vanished.  His 
ordinary  occupations  were  neglected  or  forgotten.  He  roamed 
from  chamber  to  chamber  with  hurried,  unequal,  and  object 
less  step.  The  pallor  of  his  countenance  had  assumed,  if 
possible,  a  more  ghastly  hue  —  but  the  luminousness  of  his  25 
eye  had  utterly  gone  out.  The  once  occasional  huskiness  of 
his  tone  was  heard  no  more  ;  and  a  tremulous  quaver,  as  if  of 
extreme  terror,  habitually  characterized  his  utterance.  There 
were  times,  indeed,  when  I  thought  his  unceasingly  agitated 
mind  was  laboring  with  some  oppressive  secret,  to  divulge  30 
which  he  struggled  for  the  necessary  courage.  At  times,  again, 
I  was  obliged  to  resolve  all  into  the  mere  inexplicable  vagaries 
of  madness,  for  I  beheld  him  gazing  upon  vacancy  for  long 
hours,  in  an  attitude  of  the  profoundest  attention,  as  if  listening 
to  some  imaginary  sound.  It  was  no  wonder  that  his  condition  35 


64  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

terrified  —  that  it  infected  me.  I  felt  creeping  upon  me,  by 
slow  yet  certain  degrees,  the  wild  influences  of  his  own  fantas 
tic  yet  impressive  superstitions. 

If  was,  especially,  upon  retiring  to  bed  late  in  the  night  of 
S  the  seventh  or  eighth  day  after  the  placing  of  the  lady  Madeline 
within  the  donjon,  that  I  experienced  the  full  power  of  such 
feelings.  Sleep  came  not  near  my  couch,  while  the  hours 
waned  and  waned  away.  I  struggled  to  reason  off  the  nervous 
ness  which  had  dominion  over  me.  I  endeavored  to  believe 

10  that  much,  if  not  all,  of  what  I  felt  was  due  to  the  bewilder 
ing  influence  of  the  gloomy  furniture  of  the  room  —  of  the 
dark  and  tattered  draperies  which,  tortured  into  motion  by 
the  breath  of  a  rising  tempest,  swayed  fitfully  to  and  fro  upon 
the  walls,  and  rustled  uneasily  about  the  decorations  of  the 

15  bed.  But  my  efforts  were  fruitless.  An  irrepressible  tremor 
gradually  pervaded  my  frame ;  and  at  length  there  sat  upon 
my  very  heart  an  incubus  of  utterly  causeless  alarm.  Shaking 
this  off  with  a  gasp  and  a  struggle,  I  uplifted  myself  upon  the 
pillows,  and,  peering  earnestly  within  the  intense  darkness  of 

20  the  chamber,  hearkened  —  I  know  not  why,  except  that  an 
instinctive  spirit  prompted  me  —  to  certain  low  and  indefinite 
sounds  which  came,  through  the  pauses  of  the  storm,  at  long 
intervals,  I  knew  not  whence.  Overpowered  by  an  intense 
sentiment  of  horror,  unaccountable  yet  unendurable,  I  threw 

25  on  my  clothes  with  haste,  (for  I  felt  that  I  should  sleep  no 
more  during  the  night,)  and  endeavored  to  arouse  myself 
from  the  pitiable  condition  into  which  I  had  fallen,  by  pacing 
rapidly  to  and  fro  through  the  apartment. 

I  had  taken  but  few  turns  in  this  manner,  when  a  light  step 

30  on  an  adjoining  staircase  arrested  my  attention.  I  presently 
recognized  it  as  that  of  Usher.  In  an  instant  afterward  he 
rapped  with  a  gentle  touch  at  my  door,  and  entered,  bearing 
a  lamp.  His  countenance  was,  as  usual,  cadaverously  wan  — 
but,  moreover,  there  was  a  species  of  mad  hilarity  in  his  eyes 

35  — an  evidently  restrained  hysteria  in  his  whole  demeanor. 


THE   FALL  OF  THE   HOUSE   OF   USHER         65 

His  air  appalled  me  —  but  anything  was  preferable  to  the  soli 
tude  which  I  had  so  long  endured,  and  1  even  welcomed  his 
presence  as  a  relief. 

"  And  you  have  not  seen  it?  "  he  said  abruptly,  after  having 
stared  about  him  for  some  moments  in  silence  —  "  you  have    5 
not  then  seen  it?  —  but,  stay  !  you  shall."    Thus  speaking,  and 
having  carefully  shaded  his  lamp,  he  hurried  to  one  of  the 
casements,  and  threw  it  freely  open  to  the  storm. 

The  impetuous  fury  of  the  entering  gust  nearly  lifted  us 
from  our  feet.     It  was,  indeed,  a   tempestuous  yet  sternly  10 
beautiful  night,  and  one  wildly  singular  in  its  terror  and  its 
beauty.    A  whirlwind   had  apparently  collected  its  force  in 
our  vicinity ;  for  there  were  frequent  and  violent  alterations 
in  the  direction  of  the  wind ;  and  the  exceeding  density  of 
the  clouds  (which  hung  so  low  as  to  press  upon  the  turrets  15 
of  the  house)  did  not  prevent  our  perceiving  the   life-like 
velocity  with  which  they  flew  careering  from  all  points  against 
each  other,  without  passing  away  into  the  distance.    I  say  that 
even  their  exceeding  density  did  not  prevent  our  perceiving 
this ;   yet  we  had  no  glimpse  of  the  moon  or  stars,  nor  was  20 
there  any  flashing  forth  of  the  lightning.    But  the  under  sur 
faces  of  the  huge  masses  of  agitated  vapor,  as  well  as  all 
terrestrial   objects  immediately  around   us,  were  glowing  in 
the  unnatural  light  of  a  faintly  luminous  and  distinctly  vis 
ible   gaseous  exhalation  which  hung  about  and  enshrouded  25 
the  mansion. 

"You  must  not  —  you  shall  not  behold  this  !  "  said  I,  shud- 
deringly,  to  Usher,  as  I  led  him  with  a  gentle  violence  from 
the  window  to  a  seat.  "  These  appearances,  which  bewilder 
you,  are  merely  electrical  phenomena  not  uncommon  —  or  it  30 
may  be  that  they  have  their  ghastly  origin  in  the  rank  miasma 
of  the  tarn.  Let  us  close  this  casement ;  the  air  is  chilling  and 
dangerous  to  your  frame.  Here  is  one  of  your  favorite 
romances.  I  will  read,  and  you  shall  listen ;  —  and  so  we 
will  pass  away  this  terrible  night  together."  35 


66  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

The  antique  volume  which  I  had  taken  up  was  the  "  Mad 
Trist  "  of  Sir  Launcelot  Canning ;  but  I  had  called  it  a  favorite 
of  Usher's  more  in  sad  jest  than  in  earnest ;  for,  in  truth,  there 
is  little  in  its  uncouth  and  unimaginative  prolixity  which  could 
5  have  had  interest  for  the  lofty  and  spiritual  ideality  of  my 
friend.  It  was,  however,  the  only  book  immediately  at  hand; 
and  I  indulged  a  vague  hope  that  the  excitement  which  now 
agitated  the  hypochondriac  might,  find  relief  (for  the  history 
of  mental  disorder  is  full  of  similar  anomalies)  even  in  the 

10  extremeness  of  the  folly  which  I  should  read.  Could  I  have 
judged,  indeed,  by  the  wild  overstrained  air  of  vivacity  with 
which  he  hearkened,  or  apparently  hearkened,  to  the  words 
of  the  tale,  I  might  well  have  congratulated  myself  upon  the 
success  of  my  design. 

15  I  had  arrived  at  that  well-known  portion  of  the  story  where 
Ethelred,  the  hero  of  the  Trist,  having  sought  in  vain  for 
peaceable  admission  into  the  dwelling  of  the  hermit,  proceeds 
to  make  good  an  entrance  by  force.  Here,  it  will  be  remem 
bered,  the  words  of  the  narrative  run  thus :  — 

20  "And  Ethelred,  who  was  by  nature  of  a  doughty  heart,  and 
who  was  now  mighty  withal,  on  account  of  the  powerfulness  of  the 
wine  which  he  had  drunken,  waited  no  longer  to  hold  parley  with 
the  hermit,  who,  in  sooth,  was  of  an  obstinate  and  maliceful  turn, 
but,  feeling  the  rain  upon  his  shoulders,  and  fearing  the  rising  of 

25  the  tempest,  uplifted  his  mace  outright,  and  with  blows  made 
quickly  room  in  the  plankings  of  the  door  for  his  gauntleted  hand  ; 
and  now  pulling  therewith  sturdily,  he  so  cracked,  and  ripped, 
and  tore  all  asunder,  that  the  noiSe  of  the  dry  and  hollow-sounding 
wood  alarumed  and  reverberated  throughout  the  forest." 

30  At  the  termination  of  this  sentence  I  started,  and  for  a 
moment  paused;  for  it  appeared  to  me  (although  I  at  once 
concluded  that  my  excited  fancy  had  deceived  me)  —  it 
appeared  to  me  that  from  some  very  remote  portion  of  the 
mansion  there  came,  indistinctly,  to  my  ears,  what  might  have 

35  been,  in  its  exact  similarity  of  character,  the  echo  (but  a  stifled 


THE   FALL  OF  THE   HOUSE   OF   USHER         67 

and  dull  one  certainly)  of  the  very  cracking  and  ripping  sound 
which  Sir  Launcelot  had  so  particularly  described.  It  was, 
beyond  doubt,  the  coincidence  alone  which  had  arrested  my 
attention ;  for,  amid  the  rattling  of  the  sashes  of  the  case 
ments,  and  the  ordinary  commingled  noises  of  the  still  increas-  5 
ing  storm,  the  sound,  in  itself,  had  nothing,  surely,  which  should 
have  interested  or  disturbed  me.  I  continued  the  story  :  — 

"  But  the  good  champion  Ethelred,  now  entering  within  the 
door,  was  sore  enraged  and  amazed  to  perceive  no  signal  of  the 
maliceful  hermit ;  but,  in  the  stead  thereof,  a  dragon  of  a  scaly  10 
and  prodigious  demeanor,  and  of  a  fiery  tongue,  which  sate  in 
guard  before  a  palace  of  gold,  with  a  floor  of  silver ;  and  upon 
the  wall  there  hung  a  shield  of  shining  brass  with  this  legend 
enwritten  — 

Who  entereth  herein,  a  conqueror  hath  bin;  15 

Who  slayeth  the  dragon,  the  shield  he  shall  win. 

And  Ethelred  uplifted  his  mace,  and  struck  upon  the  head  of  the 
dragon,  which  fell  before  him,  and  gave  up  his  pesty  breath,  with 
a  shriek  so  horrid  and  harsh,  and  withal  so  piercing,  that  Ethelred 
had  fain  to  close  his  ears  with  his  hands  against  the  dreadful  noise  20 
of  it,  the  like  whereof  was  never  before  heard." 

Here  again  I  paused  abruptly,  and  now  with  a  feeling  of 
wild  amazement ;  for  there  could  be  no  doubt  whatever  that, 
in  this  instance,  I  did  actually  hear  (although  from  what 
direction  it  proceeded  I  found  it  impossible  to  say)  a  low  and  25 
apparently  distant,  but  harsh,  protracted,  and  most  unusual 
screaming  or  grating  sound  —  the  exact  counterpart  of  what 
my  fancy  had  already  conjured  up  for  the  dragon's  unnatural 
shriek  as  described  by  the  romancer. 

Oppressed,  as  I  certainly  was,  upon  the  occurrence  of  this  30 
second  and  most  extraordinary  coincidence,  by  a  thousand 
conflicting  sensations,  in  which  wonder  and  extreme  terror 
were  predominant,  I  still  retained  sufficient  presence  of  mind 
to  avoid  exciting,  by  any  observation,  the  sensitive  nervousness 
of  my  companion.  I  was  by  no  means  certain  that  he  had  35 


68  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

noticed  the  sounds  in  question  ;  although,  assuredly,  a  strange 
alteration  had  during  the  last  few  minutes  taken  place  in  his 
demeanor.  From  a  position  fronting  my  own,  he  had  gradu 
ally  brought  round  his  chair,  so  as  to  sit  with  his  face  to  the 
5  door  of  the  chamber ;  and  thus  I  could  but  partially  perceive 
his  features,  although  I  saw  that  his  lips  trembled  as  if  he  were 
murmuring  inaudibly.  His  head  had  dropped  upon  his  breast 
—  yet  I  knew  that  he  was  not  asleep,  from  the  wide  and  rigid 
opening  of  the  eye  as  I  caught  a  glance  of  it  in  profile.  The 
10  motion  of  his  body,  too,  was  at  variance  with  this  idea  —  for 
he  rocked  from  side  to  side  with  a  gentle  yet  constant  and 
uniform  sway.  Having  rapidly  taken  notice  of  all  this,  I  re 
sumed  the  narrative  of  Sir  Launcelot,  which  thus  proceeded  :  — 

"  And  now,  the  champion,  having  escaped  from  the  terrible  fury 

15  of  the  dragon,  bethinking  himself  of  the  brazen  shield,  and  of  the 

breaking  up  of  the  enchantment  which  was  upon  it,  removed  the 

carcass  from  out  of  the  way  before  him,  and  approached  valor- 

ously  over  the  silver  pavement  of  the  castle  to  where  the  shield 

was  upon  the  wall ;  which  in  sooth  tarried  not  for  his  full  coming, 

20  but  fell  down  at  his  feet  upon  the  silver  floor,  with  a  mighty  great 

and  terrible  ringing  sound." 

No  sooner  had  these  syllables  passed  my  lips,  than  —  as  if 
a  shield  of  brass  had  indeed,  at  the  moment,  fallen  heavily 
upon  a  floor  of  silver  —  I  became  aware  of  a  distinct,  hollow, 

25  metallic  and  clangorous,  yet  apparently  muffled  reverberation. 
Completely  unnerved,  I  leaped  to  my  feet ;  but  the  measured 
rocking  movement  of  Usher  was  undisturbed.  I  rushed  to  the 
chair  in  which  he  sat.  His  eyes  were  bent  fixedly  before  him, 
and  throughout  his  whole  countenance  there  reigned  a  stony 

3°  rigidity.  But,  as  I  placed  my  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  there 
came  a  strong  shudder  over  his  whole  person ;  a  sickly  smile 
quivered  about  his  lips ;  and  I  saw  that  he  spoke  in  a  low, 
hurried,  and  gibbering  murmur,  as  if  unconscious  of  my  pres 
ence.  Bending  closely  over  him,  I  at  length  drank  in  the 

35  hideous  import  of  his  words. 


THE    FALL   OF   THE   HOUSE   OF   USHER         69 

"  Not  hear  it  ?  —  yes,  I  hear  it,  and  have  heard  it.    Long  — 
long  —  long  —  many  minutes,  many  hours,  many  days,  have 
I  heard  it  —  yet  I  dared  not  —  oh,  pity  me,  miserable  wretch 
that  I  am  !  —  I  dared  not  —  I  dared  not  speak  !     We  have  put 
her  living  in  the  tomb !    Said  I  not  that  my  senses  were  acute?    5 
I  now  tell  you  that  I  heard  her  first  feeble  movements  in  the 
hollow  coffin.    I  heard  them  —  many,  many  days  ago  —  yet  I 
dared    not  —  /  dared  not  speak!    And    now  —  to-night  — 
Ethelred  —  ha  !  ha  !  —  the  breaking  of  the  hermit's  door,  and 
the  death-cry  of  the  dragon,  and  the  clangor  of  the  shield  !  —  10 
say,  rather,  the  rending  of  her  coffin,  and  the  grating  of  the 
iron  hinges  of  her  prison,  and  her  struggles  within  the  coppered 
archway  of  the  vault !    Oh,  whither  shall  I  fly?    Will  she  not 
be  here  anon?    Is  she  not  hurrying  to  upbraid  me  for  my 
haste?    Have  I  not  heard  her  footstep  on  the  stair?    Do  I  not  15 
distinguish    that   heavy  and   horrible  beating  of  her  heart? 
Madman  ! "    -  here    he    sprang    furiously    to    his    feet,    and 
shrieked  out  his  syllables,  as  if  in  the  effort  he  were  giving 
up  his  soul  —  "  Madman  !  I  tell  you   that  she  now  stands 
without  the  door!"  20 

As  if  in  the  superhuman  energy  of  his  utterance  there  had 
been  found  the  potency  of  a  spell,  the  huge  antique  panels  to 
which  the  speaker  pointed  threw  slowly  back,  upon  the  instant, 
their  ponderous  and  ebony  jaws.  It  was  the  work  of  the  rush 
ing  gust  —  but  then  without  those  doors  there  did  stand  the  25 
lofty  and  enshrouded  figure  of  the  lady  Madeline  of  Usher. 
There  was  blood  upon  her  white  robes,  and  the  evidence  of 
some  bitter  struggle  upon  every  portion  of  her  emaciated 
frame.  For  a  moment  she  remained  trembling  and  reeling  to 
and  fro  upon  the  threshold  —  then,  with  a  low  moaning  cry,  30 
fell  heavily  inward  upon  the  person  of  her  brother,  and,  in  her 
violent  and  now  final  death-agonies,  bore  him  to  the  floor  a 
corpse,  and  a  victim  to  the  terrors  he  had  anticipated. 

From  that  chamber,  and  from  that  mansion,  I  fled  aghast. 
.The  storm  was  still  abroad  in  all  its  wrath  as  I  found  myself  35 


70  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

crossing  the  old  causeway.  Suddenly  there  ^hot  along  the 
path  a  wild  light,  and  I  turned  to  see  whence  a  gleam  so 
unusual  could  have  issued ;  for  the  vast  house  and  its  shadows 
were  alone  behind  me.  The  radiance  was  that  of  the  full, 
5  setting,  and  blood-red  moon,  which  now  shone  vividly  through 
that  once  barely-discernible  fissure,  of  which  I  have  before 
spoken  as  extending  from  the  roof  of  the  building,  in  a  zigzag 
direction,  to  the  base.  While  I  gazed,  this  fissure  rapidly 
widened  —  there  came  a  fierce  breath  of  the  whirlwind  —  the 

10  entire  orb  of  the  satellite  burst  at  once  upon  my  sight  —  my 
brain  reeled  as  I  saw  the  mighty  walls  rushing  asunder  —  there 
was  a  long  tumultuous  shouting  sound  like  the  voice  of  a 
thousand  waters  —  and  the  deep  and  dank  tarn  at  my  feet 
closed  sullenly  and  silently  over  the  fragments  of  the  "  House 

15  of  Usher." 


WILLIAM  WILSON 

What  say  of  it  ?  what  say  of  CONSCIENCE  grim, 
That  spectre  in  my  path  ? 

CHAMBERLAYNE  :  Pharronida 

Let  me  call  myself,  for  the  present,  William  Wilson.  The 
fair  page  now  lying  before  me  need  not  be  sullied  with  my 
real  appellation.  This  has  been  already  too  much  an  object 
for  the  scorn  —  for  the  horror  —  for  the  detestation  of  my 
race.  To  the  uttermost  regions  of  the  globe  have  not  the  5 
indignant  winds  bruited  its  unparalleled  infamy  ?  Oh,  outcast 
of  all  outcasts  most  abandoned  !  —  to  the  earth  art  thou  not 
forever  dead  ?  to  its  honors,  to  its  flowers,  to  its  golden  aspira 
tions? —  and  a  cloud,  dense,  dismal,  and  limitless,  does  it  not 
hang  eternally  between  thy  hopes  and  heaven?  10 

I  would  not,  if  I  could,  here  or  to-day,  embody  a  record  of 
my  later  years  of  unspeakable  misery  and  unpardonable  crime. 
This  epoch,  these  later  years,  took  unto  themselves  a  sudden 
elevation  in  turpitude,  whose  origin  alone  it  is  my  present 
purpose  to  assign.  Men  usually  grow  base  by  degrees.  From  15 
me,  in  an  instant,  all  virtue  dropped  bodily  as  a  mantle.  From 
comparatively  trivial  wickedness  I  passed,  with  the  stride  of 
a  giant,  into  more  than  the  enormities  of  an  Elah-Gabalus. 
What  chance  —  what  one  event  brought  this  evil  thing  to  pass, 
bear  with  me  while  I  relate.  Death  approaches ;  and  the  20 
shadow  which  foreruns  him  has  thrown  a  softening  influence 
over  my  spirit.  I  long,  in  passing  through  the  dim  valley,  for 
the  sympathy  —  I  had  nearly  said  for  the  pity  —  of  my  fellow- 
men.  I  would  fain  have  them  believe  that  I  have  been,  in 
some  measure,  the  slave  of  circumstances  beyond  human  con-  25 
trol,  I  would  wish  them  to  seek  out  for  me,  in  the  details  I 


72  SELECTIONS    FROM    FOE 

am  about  to  give,  some  little  oasis  of  fatality  amid  a  wilder 
ness  of  error.  I  would  have  them  allow  —  what  they  cannot 
refrain  from  allowing  —  that,  although  temptation  may  have 
erewhile  existed  as  great,  man  was  never  thus,  at  least,  tempted 
5  before  —  certainly,  never  thus  fell.  And  is  it  therefore  that 
he  has  never  thus  suffered?  Have  I  not  indeed  been  living 
in  a  dream  ?  And  am  I  not  now  dying  a  victim  to  the  horror 
and  the  mystery  of  the  wildest  of  all  sublunary  visions? 

I  am  the  descendant  of  a  race  whose  imaginative  and  easily 

10  excitable  temperament  has  at  all  times  rendered  them  remark 
able  ;  and,  in  my  earliest  infancy,  I  gave  evidence  of  having 
fully  inherited  the  family  character.  As  I  advanced  in  years 
it  was  more  strongly  developed ;  becoming,  for  many  reasons, 
a  cause  of  serious  disquietude  to  my  friends,  and  of  positive 

15  injury  to  myself.  I  grew  self-willed,  addicted  to  the  wildest 
caprices,  and  a  prey  to  the  most  ungovernable  passions. 
Weak-minded,  and  beset  with  constitutional  infirmities  akin 
to  my  own,  my  parents  could  do  but  little  to  check  the  evil 
propensities  which  distinguished  me.  Some  feeble  and  ill- 

20  directed  efforts  resulted  in  complete  failure  on  their  part,  and, 
of  course,  in  total  triumph  on  mine.  Thenceforward  my  voice 
was  a  household  law  ;  and  at  an  age  when  few  children  have 
abandoned  their  leading-strings  I  was  left  to  the  guidance  of 
my  own  will,  and  became,  in  all  but  name,  the  master  of  my 

25  own  actions. 

My  earliest  recollections  of  a  school-life  are  connected  with 
a  large,  rambling,  Elizabethan  house,  in  a  misty-looking  village 
of  England,  where  were  a  vast  number  of  gigantic  and  gnarled 
trees,  and  where  all  the  houses  were  excessively  ancient.  In 

30  truth,  it  was  a  dream-like  and  spirit-soothing  place,  that  ven 
erable  old  town.  At  this  moment,  in  fancy,  I  feel  the  refresh 
ing  chilliness  of  its  deeply-shadowed  avenues,  inhale  the 
fragrance  of  its  thousand  shrubberies,  and  thrill  anew  with 
undefinable  delight  at  the  deep  hollow  note  of  the  church-bell, 

35  breaking,  each  hour,  with  sullen  and  sudden  roar,  upon  the 


WILLIAM   WILSON  73 

stillness  of  the  dusky  atmosphere  in  which  the  fretted  Gothic 
steeple  lay  imbedded  and  asleep. 

It  gives  me,  perhaps,  as  much  of  pleasure  as  I  can  now  in  any 
manner  experience  to  dwell  upon  minute  recollections  of  the 
school  and  its  concerns.  Steeped  in  misery  as  I  am  —  misery,  5 
alas  !  only  too  real  —  I  shall  be  pardoned  for  seeking  relief, 
however  slight  and  temporary,  in  the  weakness  of  a  few  ram 
bling  details.  These,  moreover,  utterly  trivial,  and  even 
ridiculous  in  themselves,  assume  to  my  fancy  adventitious 
importance,  as  connected  with  a  period  and  a  locality  when  10 
and  where  I  recognize  the  first  ambiguous  monitions  of  the 
destiny  which  afterwards  so  fully  overshadowed  me.  Let  me 
then  remember. 

The  house,  I  have  said,  was  old  and  irregular.    The  grounds 
were  extensive,  and  a  high  and  solid  brick  wall,  topped  with  15 
a  bed  of  mortar  and  broken  glass,  encompassed  the  whole. 
This  prison-like    rampart    formed  the  limit  of  our  domain ; 
beyond  it  we  saw  but  thrice  a  week  —  once  every  Saturday 
afternoon,  when,  attended  by  two  ushers,  we  were  permitted 
to  take  brief  walks  in  a  body  through  some  of  the  neighbor-  20 
ing  fields  —  and  twice  during  Sunday,  when  we  were  paraded 
in  the  same  formal  manner  to  the  morning  and  evening  serv 
ice  in  the  one  church  of  the  village.    Of  this  church  the  prin 
cipal  of  our  school  was  pastor.    With  how  deep  a  spirit  of 
wonder  and  perplexity  was  I  wont  to  regard  him  from  our  25 
remote  pew  in  the  gallery,  as,  with  step  solemn  and  slow,  he 
ascended  the  pulpit !    This  reverend  man,  with  countenance 
so  demurely  benign,  with  robes  so  glossy  and  so  clerically  flow 
ing,  with  wig  so  minutely  powdered,  so  rigid  and  so  vast,  — 
could  this  be  he  who,  of  late,  with  sour  visage,  and  in  snuffy  30 
habiliments,  administered,  ferule  in  hand,  the  Draconian  Laws 
of  the  academy?    Oh,  gigantic  paradox,  too  utterly  monstrous 
for  solution  ! 

At  an   angle  of  the  ponderous  wall  frowned  a  more  pon 
derous  gate.    It  was  riveted  and  studded  with  iron  bolts,  and  35 


74  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

surmounted  with  jagged  iron  spikes.  What  impressions  of 
deep  awe  did  it  inspire  !  It  was  never  opened  save  for  the 
three  periodical  egressions  and  ingressions  already  mentioned  ; 
then,  in  every  creak  of  its  mighty  hinges,  we  found  a  plenitude 
5  of  mystery  —  a  world  of  matter  for  solemn  remark,  or  for  more 
solemn  meditation. 

The  extensive  enclosure  was  irregular  in  form,  having  many 
capacious  recesses.  Of  these,  three  or  four  of  the  largest  con 
stituted  the  play-ground.  It  was  level,  and  covered  with  fine 

10  hard  gravel.  I  well  remember  it  had  no  trees,  nor  benches, 
nor  anything  similar  within  it.  Of  course  it  was  in  the  rear  of 
the  house.  In  front  lay  a  small  parterre,  planted  with  box 
and  other  shrubs ;  but  through  this  sacred  division  we  passed 
only  upon  rare  occasions  indeed  —  such  as  a  first  advent  to 

15  school  or  final  departure  thence,  or  perhaps  when,  a  parent 
or  friend  having  called  for  us,  we  joyfully  took  our  way  home 
for  the  Christmas  or  Midsummer  holidays. 

But  the  house  !  —  how  quaint  an  old  building  was  this  !  — 
to  me  how  veritably  a  palace  of  enchantment!  There  was 

20  really  no  end  to  its  windings  —  to  its  incomprehensible  sub 
divisions.  It  was  difficult,  at  any  given  time,  to  say  with  cer 
tainty  upon  which  of  its  two  stories  one  happened  to  be.  From 
each  room  to  every  other  there  were  sure  to  be  found  three  or 
four  steps  either  in  ascent  or  descent.  Then  the  lateral  branches 

25  were  innumerable,  inconceivable,  and  so  returning  in  upon 
themselves  that  our  most  exact  ideas  in  regard  to  the  whole 
mansion  were  not  very  far  different  from  those  with  which  we 
pondered  upon  infinity.  During  the  five  years  of  my  residence 
here  I  was  never  able  to  ascertain,  with  precision,  in  what 

30  remote  locality  lay  the  little  sleeping  apartment  assigned  to 
myself  and  some  eighteen  or  twenty  other  scholars. 

The  school-room  was  the  largest  in  the  house — I  could  not 
help  thinking,  in  the  world.  It  was  very  long,  narrow,  and 
dismally  low,  with  pointed  Gothic  windows  and  a  ceiling  of 

35  oak.    In  a  remote  and  terror-inspiring  angle  was  a  square 


WILLIAM   WILSON  75 

enclosure  of  eight  or  ten  feet,  comprising  the  sanctum,  "  dur 
ing  hours,"  of  our  principal,  the  Reverend  Dr.  Bransby.  It 
was  a  solid  structure,  with  massy  door,  sooner  than  open  which 
in  the  absence  of  the  "  Dominie  "  we  would  all  have  willingly 
perished  by  the  peine  forte  et  dure.  In  other  angles  were  two  5 
other  similar  boxes,  far  less  reverenced,  indeed,  but  still 
greatly  matters  of  awe.  One  of  these  was  the  pulpit  of  the 
"  classical "  usher  ;  one,  of  the  "  English  and  mathematical." 
Interspersed  about  the  room,  crossing  and  recrossing  in  end 
less  irregularity,  were  innumerable  benches  and  desks,  black,  10 
ancient,  and  time-worn,  piled  desperately  with  much-be- 
thumbed  books,  and  so  beseamed  with  initial  letters,  names 
at  full  length,  grotesque  figures,  and  other  multiplied  efforts 
of  the  knife,  as  to  have  entirely  lost  what  little  of  original 
form  might  have  been  their  portion  in  days  Jong  departed.  A  15 
huge  bucket  with  water  stood  at  one  extremity  of  the  room, 
and  a  clock  of  stupendous  dimensions  at  the  other. 

Encompassed  by  the  massy  walls  of  this  venerable  academy, 
I  passed,  yet  not  in  tedium  or  disgust,  the  years  of  the  third 
lustrum  of  my  life.  The  teeming  brain  of  childhood  requires  20 
no  external  world  of  incident  to  occupy  or  amuse  it ;  and  the 
apparently  dismal  monotony  of  a  school  was  replete  with  more 
intense  excitement  than  my  riper  youth  has  derived  from  lux 
ury,  or  my  full  manhood  from  crime.  Yet  I  must  believe  that 
my  first  mental  development  had  in  it  much  of  the  uncommon  25 
—  even  much  of  the  outre.  Upon  mankind  at  large  the  events 
of  very  early  existence  rarely  leave  in  mature  age  any  defi 
nite  impression.  All  is  gray  shadow  —  a  weak  and  irregular 
remembrance  —  an  indistinct  regathering  of  feeble  pleasures 
and  phantasmagoric  pains.  With  me  this  is  not  so.  In  child- -30 
hood  I  must  have  felt,  with  the  energy  of  a  man,  what  I  now 
find  stamped  upon  memory  in  lines  as  vivid,  as  deep,  and  as 
durable  as  the  exergues  of  the  Carthaginian  medals. 

Yet  in  fact  —  in  the  fact  of  the  world's  view  —  how  little 
was    there    to    remember  !    The    morning's   awakening,    the  35 


76  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

nightly  summons  to  bed ;  the  connings,  the  recitations ;  the 
periodical  half-holidays,  and  perambulations  ;  the  play-ground, 
with  its  broils,  its  pastimes,  its  intrigues ;  —  these,  by  a  mental 
sorcery  long  forgotten,  were  made  to  involve  a  wilderness  of 
5  sensation,  a  world  of  rich  incident,  an  universe  of  varied  emo 
tion,  of  excitement  the  most  passionate  and  spirit-stirring. 
"  O/i,  le  bon  temps,  que  ce  siecle  de  fer  !  " 

In  truth,  the  ardor,  the  enthusiasm,  and  the  imperiousness 
of  my  disposition,    soon   rendered   me   a  marked   character 

10  among  my  schoolmates,  and  by  slow  but  natural  gradations 
gave  me  an  ascendancy  over  all  not  greatly  older  than  myself : 
over  all  with  a  single  exception.  This  exception  was  found  in 
the  person  of  a  scholar  who,  although  no  relation,  bore  the 
same  Christian  and  surname  as  myself,  —  a  circumstance,  in 

1 5  fact,  little  remarkable ;  for,  notwithstanding  a  noble  descent, 
mine  was  one  of  those  every-day  appellations  which  seem  by 
prescriptive  right  to  have  been,  time  out  of  mind,  the  com 
mon  property  of  the  mob.  In  this  narrative  I  have  therefore 
designated  myself  as  William  Wilson,  —  a  fictitious  title  not 

20  very  dissimilar  to  the  real.  My  namesake  alone,  of  those  who 
in  school-phraseology  constituted  "our  set,"  presumed  to 
compete  with  me  in  the  studies  of  the  class  —  in  the  sports 
and  broils  of  the  play-ground  —  to  refuse  implicit  belief  in 
my  assertions,  and  submission  to  my  will  —  indeed,  to  inter- 

25  fere  with  my  arbitrary  dictation  in  any  respect  whatsoever. 
If  there  is  on  earth  a  supreme  and  unqualified  despotism,  it  is 
the  despotism  of  a  master-mind  in  boyhood  over  the  less 
energetic  spirits  of  its  companions. 

Wilson's  rebellion  was  to  me  a  source  of  the  greatest  embar- 

30  rassment ;  the  more  so  as,  in  spite  of  the  bravado  with  which 
in  public  I  made  a  point  of  treating  him  and  his  pretensions, 
I  secretly  felt  that  I  feared  him,  and  could  not  help  thinking 
the  equality,  which  he  maintained  so  easily  with  myself,  a 
proof  of  his  true  superiority ;  since  not  to  be  overcome  cost 

35  me   a  perpetual   struggle.      Yet    this    superiority,   even    this 


WILLIAM  WILSON  77 

equality,  was  in  truth  acknowledged  by  no  one  but  myself ;  our 
associates,  by  some  unaccountable  blindness,  seemed  not  even 
to  suspect  it.  Indeed,  his  competition,  his  resistance,  and 
especially  his  impertinent  and  dogged  interference  with  my 
purposes,  were  not  more  pointed  than  private.  He  appeared  5 
to  be  destitute  alike  of  the  ambition  which  urged,  and  of  the 
passionate  energy  of  mind  which  enabled,  me  to  excel.  In 
his  rivalry  he  might  have  been  supposed  actuated  solely  by 
a  whimsical  desire  to  thwart,  astonish,  or  mortify  myself; 
although  there  were  times  when  I  could  not  help  observing,  10 
with  a  feeling  made  up  of  wonder,  abasement,  and  pique,  that 
he  mingled  with  his  injuries,  his  insults,  or  his  contradictions, 
a  certain  most  inappropriate,  and  assuredly  most  unwelcome, 
affectionateness  of  manner.  I  could  only  conceive  this  singular 
behavior  to  arise  from  a  consummate  self-conceit  assuming  15 
the  vulgar  airs  of  patronage  and  protection. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  latter  trait  in  Wilson's  conduct,  con 
joined  with  our  identity  of  name,  and  the  mere  accident  of 
our  having  entered  the  school  upon  the  same  day,  which  set 
afloat  the  notion  that  we  were  brothers,  among  the  senior  20 
classes  in  the  academy.  These  do  not  usually  inquire  with 
much  strictness  into  the  affairs  of  their  juniors.  I  have  before 
said,  or  should  have  said,  that  Wilson  was  not  in  the  most 
remote  degree  connected  with  my  family.  But  assuredly  if 
we  had  been  brothers  we  must  have  been  twins;  for,  after  25 
leaving  Dr.  Bransby's,  I  casually  learned  that  my  namesake 
was  born  on  the  nineteenth  of  January,  1813  ;  and  this  is  a 
somewhat  remarkable  coincidence ;  for  the  day  is  precisely 
that  of  my  own  nativity. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  in  spite  of  the  continual  anxiety  30 
occasioned  me  by  the  rivalry  of  Wilson,  and  his  intolerable 
spirit  of  contradiction,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  hate  him 
altogether.  We  had,  to  be  sure,  nearly  every  day  a  quarrel  in 
which,  yielding  me  publicly  the  palm  of  victory,  he,  in  some 
manner,  contrived  to  make  me  feel  that  it  was  he  who  had  35 


78  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

deserved  it ;  yet  a  sense  of  pride  on  my  part,  and  a  veritable 
dignity  on  his  own,  kept  us  always  upon  what  are  called  "  speak 
ing  terms,"  while  there  were  many  points  of  strong  congeni 
ality  in  our  tempers,  operating  to  awake  in  me  a  sentiment 
5  which  our  position  alone,  perhaps,  prevented  from  ripening 
into  friendship.  It  is  difficult,  indeed,  to  define,  or  even  to 
describe,  my  real  feelings  towards  him.  They  formed  a  motley 
and  heterogeneous  admixture  :  some  petulant  animosity,  which 
was  not  yet  hatred,  some  esteem,  more  respect,  much  fear, 

10  with  a  world  of  uneasy  curiosity.  To  the  moralist  it  will  be 
unnecessary  to  say,  in  addition,  that  Wilson  and  myself  were 
the  most  inseparable  of  companions. 

It  was  no  doubt  the  anomalous  state  of  affairs  existing 
between  us  which  turned  all  my  attacks  upon  him  (and  they 

15  were  many,  either  open  or  covert)  into  the  channel  of  banter 
or  practical  joke  (giving  pain  while  assuming  the  aspect  of 
mere  fun)  rather  than  into  a  more  serious  and  determined 
hostility.  But  my  endeavors  on  this  head  were  by  no  means 
uniformly  successful,  even  when  my  plans  were  the  most  wittily 

20  concocted ;  for  my  namesake  had  much  about  him,  in  char 
acter,  of  that  unassuming  and  quiet  austerity  which,  while 
enjoying  the  poignancy  of  its  own  jokes,  has  no  heel  of  Achilles 
in  itself,  and  absolutely  refuses  to  be  laughed  at.  I  could  find, 
indeed,  but  one  vulnerable  point,  and  that  lying  in  a  personal 

25  peculiarity  arising,  perhaps,  from  constitutional  disease,  would 
have  been  spared  by  any  antagonist  less  at  his  wit's  end  than 
myself  :  —  my  rival  had  a  weakness  in  the  faucial  or  guttural 
organs,  which  precluded  him  from  raising  his  voice  at  any 
time  above  a  very  low  whisper.  Of  this  defect  I  did  not  fail  to 

30  take  what  poor  advantage  lay  in  my  power. 

Wilson's  retaliations  in  kind  were  many ;  and  there  was  one 
form  of  his  practical  wit  that  disturbed  me  beyond  measure. 
How  his  sagacity  first  discovered  at  all  that  so  petty  a  thing 
would  vex  me,  is  a  question  I  never  could  solve  ;  but  having 

35  discovered,  he   habitually  practised   the  annoyance.     I  had 


WILLIAM  WILSON  79 

always  felt  aversion  to  my  uncourtly  patronymic,  and  its  very 
common,  if  not  plebeian  praenomen.  The  words  were  venom 
in  my  ears ;  and  when,  upon  the  day  of  my  arrival,  a  second 
William  Wilson  came  also  to  the  academy,  I  felt  angry  with 
him  for  bearing  the  name,  and  doubly  disgusted  with  the  name  5 
because  a  stranger  bore  it,  who  would  be  the  cause  of  its  two 
fold  repetition,  who  would  be  constantly  in  my  presence,  and 
whose  concerns,  in  the  ordinary  routine  of  the  school  business, 
must  inevitably,  on  account  of  the  detestable  coincidence,  be 
often  confounded  with  my  own.  10 

The  feeling  of  vexation  thus  engendered  grew  stronger  with 
every  circumstance  tending  to  show  resemblance,  moral  or 
physical,  between  my  rival  and  myself.  I  had  not  then  dis 
covered  the  remarkable  fact  that  we  were  of  the  same  age  ; 
but  I  saw  that  we  were  of  the  same  height,  and  I  perceived  15 
that  we  were  even  singularly  alike  in  general  contour  of  person 
and  outline  of  feature.  I  was  galled,  too,  by  the  rumor  touch 
ing  a  relationship  which  had  grown  current  in  the  upper  forms. 
In  a  word,  nothing  could  more  seriously  disturb  me  (although 
I  scrupulously  concealed  such  disturbance)  than  any  allusion  20 
to  a  similarity  of  mind,  person,  or  condition  existing  between 
us.  But,  in  truth,  I  had  no  reason  to  believe  that  (with  the 
exception  of  the  matter  of  relationship, .  and  in  the  case  of 
Wilson  himself)  this  similarity  had  ever  been  made  a  subject 
of  comment,  or  even  observed  at  all  by  our  schoolfellows.  25 
That  he  observed  it  in  all  its  bearings,  and  as  fixedly  as  I,  was 
apparent;  but  that  he  could  discover  in  such  circumstances 
so  fruitful  a  field  of  annoyance  can  only  be  attributed,  as  I  said 
before,  to  his  more  than  ordinary  penetration. 

His  cue,  which  was  to  perfect  an  imitation  of  myself,  lay  30 
both  in  words  and  in  actions ;  and  most  admirably  did  he  play 
his  part.  My  dress  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  copy  ;  my  gait  and 
general  manner  were,  without  difficulty,  appropriated ;  in  spite 
of  his  constitutional  defect,  even  my  voice  did  not  escape  him. 
My  louder  tones  were,  of  course,  unattempted,  but  then  the  35 


80  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

key,  — it  was  identical ;   and  his  singular  whisper,  —  it  grew 
the  very  echo  of  my  own. 

How  greatly  this  most  exquisite  portraiture  harassed  me 
(for  it  could  not  justly  be  termed  a  caricature)  I  will  not  now 
5  venture  to  describe.  I  had  but  one  consolation  —  in  the  fact 
that  the  imitation,  apparently,  was  noticed  by  myself  alone, 
and  that  I  had  to  endure  only  the  knowing  and  strangely  sar 
castic  smiles  of  my  namesake  himself.  Satisfied  with  having 
produced  in  my  bosom  the  intended  effect,  he  seemed  to 

10  chuckle  in  secret  over  the  sting  he  had  inflicted,  and  was 
characteristically  disregardful  of  the  public  applause  which  the 
success  of  his  witty  endeavors  might  have  so  easily  elicited. 
That  the  school,  indeed,  did  not  feel  his  design,  perceive  its 
accomplishment,  and  participate  in  his  sneer,  was,  for  many 

15  anxious  months,  a  riddle  I  could  not  resolve.  Perhaps  the 
gradation  of  his  copy  rendered  it  not  so  readily  perceptible ; 
or,  more  possibly,  I  owed  my  security  to  the  masterly  air  of 
the  copyist,  who,  disdaining  the  letter  (which  in  a  painting  is  all 
the  obtuse  can  see)  gave  but  the  full  spirit  of  his  original  for 

20  my  individual  contemplation  and  chagrin. 

I  have  already  more  than  once  spoken  of  the  disgusting  air 
of  patronage  which  he  assumed  toward  me,  and  of  his  frequent 
officious  interference  with  my  will.  This  interference  often 
took  the  ungracious  character  of  advice ;  advice  not  openly 

25  given,  but  hinted  or  insinuated.  I  received  it  with  a  repug 
nance  which  gained  strength  as  I  grew  in  years.  Yet,  at  this 
distant  day,  let  me  do  him  the  simple  justice  to  acknowledge 
that  I  can  recall  no  occasion  when  the  suggestions  of  my  rival 
were  on  the  side  of  those  errors  or  follies  so  usual  to  his 

30  immature  age  and  seeming  inexperience ;  that  his  moral 
sense,  at  least,  if  not  his  general  talents  and  worldly  wisdom, 
was  far  keener  than  my  own ;  and  that  I  might,  to-day,  have 
been  a  better,  and  thus  a  happier  man,  had  I  less  frequently 
rejected  the  counsels  embodied  in  those  meaning  whispers 

35  which  I  then  but  too  cordially  hated  and  too  bitterly  despised. 


WILLIAM  WILSON  8  I 

As  it  was,  I  at  length  grew  restive  in  the  extreme  under 
his  distasteful  supervision,  and  daily  resented  more  and  more 
openly  what  I  considered  his  intolerable  arrogance.  I  have 
said  that,  in  the  first  years  of  our  connection  as  schoolmates, 
my  feelings  in  regard  to  him  might  have  been  easily  ripened  5 
into  friendship ;  but,  in  the  latter  months  of  my  residence  at 
the  academy,  although  the  intrusion  of  his  ordinary  manner 
had,  beyond  doubt,  in  some  measure  abated,  my  sentiments, 
in  nearly  similar  proportion,  partook  very  much  of  positive 
hatred.  Upon  one  occasion  he  saw  this,  I  think,  and  after-  10 
wards  avoided  or  made  a  show  of  avoiding  me. 

It  was  about  the  same  period,  if  I  remember  aright,  that, 
in  an  altercation  of  violence  with  him,  in  which  he  was  more 
than  usually  thrown  off  his  guard,  and  spoke  and  acted  with 
an  openness  of  demeanor  rather  foreign  to  his  nature,  I  dis-  15 
covered,  or  fancied  I  discovered,  in  his  accent,  his  air  and 
general  appearance,  a  something  which  first  startled,  and 
then  deeply  interested  me,  by  bringing  to  mind  dim  visions 
of  my  earliest  infancy  —  wild,  confused  and  thronging  mem 
ories  of  a  time  when  memory  herself  was  yet  unborn.  I  can-  20 
not  better  describe  the  sensation  which  oppressed  me  than  by 
saying  that  I  could  with  difficulty  shake  off  the  belief  of  my 
having  been  acquainted  with  the  being  who  stood  before  me, 
at  some  epoch  very  long  ago  —  some  point  of  the  past  even 
infinitely  remote.  The  delusion,  however,  faded  rapidly  as  it  25 
came  ;  and  I  mention  it  at  all  but  to  define  the  day  of  the 
last  conversation  I  there  held  with  my  singular  namesake. 

The  huge  old  house,  with  its  countless  subdivisions,  had 
several  large  chambers  communicating  with  each  other,  where 
slept  the  greater  number  of  the  students.  There  were,  how-  30 
ever  (as  must  necessarily  happen  in  a  building  so  awkwardly 
planned)  many  little  nooks  or  recesses,  the  odds  and  ends  of 
the  structure ;  and  these  the  economic  ingenuity  of  Dr. 
Bransby  had  also  fitted  up  as  dormitories;  although,  being 
the  merest  closets,  they  were  capable  of  accommodating  but  35 


82  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

a  single  individual.    One  of  these  small  apartments  was  occu 
pied  by  Wilson. 

One  night,  about  the  close  of  my  fifth  year  at  the  school, 
and  immediately  after  the  altercation  just  mentioned,  finding 
5  every  one  wrapped  in  sleep,  I  arose  from  bed,  and,  lamp  in 
hand,  stole  through  a  wilderness  of  narrow  passages  from  my 
own  bedroom  to  that  of  my  rival.  I  had  long  been  plotting 
one  of  those  ill-natured  pieces  of  practical  wit  at  his  expense 
in  which  I  had  hitherto  been  so  uniformly  unsuccessful.  It 

10  was  my  intention,  now,  to  put  my  scheme  in  operation,  and  I 
resolved  to  make  him  feel  the  whole  extent  of  the  malice 
with  which  I  was  imbued.  Having  reached  his  closet,  I  noise 
lessly  entered,  leaving  the  lamp,  with  a  shade  over  it,  on  the 
outside.  I  advanced  a  step,  and  listened  to  the  sound  of  his 

15  tranquil  breathing.  Assured  of  his  being  asleep,  I  returned, 
took  the  light,  and  with  it  again  approached  the  bed.  Close 
curtains  were  around  it,  which,  in  the  prosecution  of  my  plan, 
I  slowly  and  quietly  withdrew,  when  the  bright  rays  fell  vividly 
upon  the  sleeper,  and  my  eyes  at  the  same  moment  upon  his 

20  countenance.  I  looked,  —  and  a  numbness,  an  iciness  of 
feeling,  instantly  pervaded  my  frame.  My  breast  heaved,  my 
knees  tottered,  my  whole  spirit  became  possessed  with  an 
objectless  yet  intolerable  horror.  Gasping  for  breath,  I  low 
ered  the  lamp  in  still  nearer  proximity  to  the  face.  Were 

25  these,  —  these  the  lineaments  of  William  Wilson?  I  saw, 
indeed,  that  they  were  his,  but  I  shook  as  if  with  a  fit  of  the 
ague,  in  fancying  they  were  not.  What  was  there  about  them 
to  confound  me  in  this  manner?  I  gazed,  —  while  my  brain 
reeled  with  a  multitude  of  incoherent  thoughts.  Not  thus  he 

30  appeared  —  assuredly  not  thus — in  the  vivacity  of  his  waking 
hours.  The  same  name  !  the  same  contour  of  person  !  the 
same  day  of  arrival  at  the  academy  !  And  then  his  dogged 
and  meaningless  imitation  of  my  gait,  my  voice,  my  habits, 
and  my  manner  !  Was  it,  in  truth,  within  the  bounds  of 

35  human  possibility,  that  what  I  now  saw  was  the  result,  merely, 


WILLIAM  WILSON  83 

of  the  habitual  practice  of  this  sarcastic  imitation?  Awe- 
stricken,  and  with  a  creeping  shudder,  I  extinguished  the 
lamp,  passed  silently  from  the  chamber,  and  left,  at  once,  the 
halls  of  that  old  academy,  never  to  enter  them  again. 

After  a  lapse  of  some  months,  spent  at  home  in  mere  idle-  5 
ness,  I  found  myself  a  student  at  Eton.  The  brief  interval 
had  been  sufficient  to  enfeeble  my  remembrance  of  the  events 
at  Dr.  Bransby's,  or  at  least  to  effect  a  material  change  in  the 
nature  of  the  feelings  with  which  I  remembered  them.  The 
truth  —  the  tragedy  —  of  the  drama  was  no  more.  I  could  10 
now  find  room  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  my  senses ;  and 
seldom  called  up  the  subject  at  all  but  with  wonder  at  the 
extent  of  human  credulity,  and  a  smile  at  the  vivid  force  of 
the  imagination  which  I  hereditarily  possessed.  Neither  was 
this  species  of  scepticism  likely  to  be  diminished  by  the  char-  15 
acter  of  the  life  I  led  at  Eton.  The  vortex  of  thoughtless 
folly,  into  which  I  there  so  immediately  and  so  recklessly 
plunged,  washed  away  all  but  the  froth  of  my  past  hours,  en 
gulfed  at  once  every  solid  or  serious  impression,  and  left  to 
memory  only  the  veriest  levities  of  a  former  existence.  20 

I  do  not  wish,  however,  to  trace  the  course  of  my  miser 
able  profligacy  here  —  a  profligacy  which  set  at  defiance  the 
laws,  while  it  eluded  the  vigilance,  of  the  institution.  Three 
years  of  folly,  passed  without  profit,  had  but  given  me  rooted 
habits  of  vice,  and  added,  in  a  somewhat  unusual  degree,  to  25 
my  bodily  stature,  when,  after  a  week  of  soulless  dissipation, 
I  invited  a  small  party  of  the  most  dissolute  students  to  a 
secret  carousal  in  my  chambers.  We  met  at  a  late  hour  of 
the  night;  for  our  debaucheries  were  to  be  faithfully  pro 
tracted  until  morning.  The  wine  flowed  freely,  and  there  30 
were  not  wanting  other  and  perhaps  more  dangerous  seduc 
tions  ;  so  that  the  gray  dawn  had  already  faintly  appeared  in 
the  east  while  our  delirious  extravagance  was  at  its  height. 
Madly  flushed  with  cards  and  intoxication,  I  was  in  the  act  of 
insisting  upon  a  toast  of  more  than  wonted  profanity,  when  35 


84  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

my  attention  was  suddenly  diverted  by  the  violent,  although 
partial,  unclosing  of  the  door  of  the  apartment,  and  by  the 
eager  voice  of  a  servant  from  without.  He  said  that  some 
person,  apparently  in  great  haste,  demanded  to  speak  with 
5  me  in  the  hall. 

Wildly  excited  with  wine,  the  unexpected  interruption 
rather  delighted  than  surprised  me.  I  staggered  forward  at 
once,  and  a  few  steps  brought  me  to  the  vestibule  of  the 
building.  In  this  low  and  small  room  there  hung  no  lamp; 

10  and  now  no  light  at  all  was  admitted,  save  that  of  the  exceed 
ingly  feeble  dawn  which  made  its  way  through  the  semi 
circular  window.  As  I  put  my  foot  over  the  threshold,  I 
became  aware  of  the  figure  of  a  youth  about  my  own  height, 
and  habited  in  a  white  kerseymere  morning  frock,  cut  in  the 

15  novel  fashion  of  the  one  I  myself  wore  at  the  moment.  This 
the  faint  light  enabled  me  to  perceive  ;  but  the  features  of  his 
face  I  could  not  distinguish.  Upon  my  entering,  he  strode 
hurriedly  up  to  me,  and,  seizing  me  by  the  arm  with  a  gesture 
of  petulant  impatience,  whispered  the  words  "  William  WiL 

20  son  !  "  in  my  ear. 

I  grew  perfectly  sober  in  an  instant. 

There  was  that  in  the  manner  of  the  stranger,  and  in  the 
tremulous  shake  of  his  uplifted  finger,  as  he  held  it  between 
my  eyes  and  the  light,  which  filled  me  with  unqualified 

25  amazement ;  but  it  was  not  this  which  had  so  violently  moved 
me.  It  was  the  pregnancy  of  solemn  admonition  in  the  singu 
lar,  low,  hissing  utterance  ;  and,  above  all,  it  was  the  charac 
ter,  the  tone,  the  key,  of  those  few,  simple,  and  familiar,  yet 
whispered  syllables,  which  came  with  a  thousand  thronging 

30  memories  of  by-gone  days,  and  struck  upon  my  soul  with  the 
shock  of  a  galvanic  battery.  Ere  I  could  recover  the  use  of 
my  senses  he  was  gone. 

Although  this  event  failed  not  of  a  vivid  effect  upon  my 
disordered  imagination,  yet  was  it  evanescent  as  vivid.  For 

35  some  weeks,  indeed,  I  busied  myself  in  earnest  inquiry,  or 


WILLIAM   WILSON  85 

was  wrapped  in  a  cloud  of  morbid  speculation.  I  did  not 
pretend  to  disguise  from  my  perception  the  identity  of  the 
singular  individual  who  thus  perseveringly  interfered  with  my 
affairs,  and  harassed  me  with  his  insinuated  counsel.  But  who 
and  what  was  this  Wilson?  —  and  whence  came  he?  —  and  5 
what  were  his  purposes  ?  Upon  neither  of  these  points  could 
I  be  satisfied  —  merely  ascertaining,  in  regard  to  him,  that  a 
sudden  accident  in  his  family  had  caused  his  removal  from 
Dr.  Bransby's  academy  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  in  which 
I  myself  had  eloped.  But  in  a  brief  period  I  ceased  to  think  10 
upon  the  subject,  my  attention  being  all  absorbed  in  a  con 
templated  departure  for  Oxford.  Thither  I  soon  went,  the 
uncalculating  vanity  of  my  parents  furnishing  me  with  an 
outfit  and  annual  establishment  which  would  enable  me  to 
indulge  at  will  in  the  luxury  already  so  dear  to  my  heart  —  to  15 
vie  in  profuseness  of  expenditure  with  the  haughtiest  heirs  of 
the  wealthiest  earldoms  in  Great  Britain. 

Excited  by  such  appliances  to  vice,  my  constitutional  tem 
perament  broke  forth  with  redoubled  ardor,  and  I  spurned 
even  the  common  restraints  of  decency  in  the  mad  infatuation  20 
of  my  revels.  But  it  were  absurd  to  pause  in  the  detail  of  my 
extravagance.  Let  it  suffice,  that  among  spendthrifts  I  out- 
Heroded  Herod,  and  that,  giving  name  to  a  multitude  of 
novel  follies,  I  added  no  brief  appendix  to  the  long  catalogue 
of  vices  then  usual  in  the  most  dissolute  university  of  Europe.  25 

It  could  hardly  be  credited,  however,  that  I  had,  even  here, 
so  utterly  fallen  from  the  gentlemanly  estate  as  to  seek  ac 
quaintance  with  the  vilest  arts  of  the  gambler  by  profession, 
and,  having  become  an  adept  in  his  despicable  science,  to 
practise  it  habitually  as  a  means  of  increasing  my  already  30 
enormous  income  at  the  expense  of  the  weak-minded  among 
my  fellow-collegians.  Such,  nevertheless,  was  the  fact.  And 
the  very  enormity  of  this  offence  against  all  manly  and  honor 
able  sentiment  proved,  beyond  doubt,  the  main  if  not  the 
sole  reason  of  the  impunity  with  which  it  was  committed.  35 


86  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

Who,  indeed,  among  my  most  abandoned  associates,  would 
not  rather  have  disputed  the  clearest  evidence  of  his  senses, 
than  have  suspected  of  such  courses  the  gay,  the  frank,  the 
generous  William  Wilson  —  the  noblest  and  most  liberal  com- 
5  moner  at  Oxford  :  him  whose  follies  (said  his  parasites)  were 
but  the  follies  of  youth  and  unbridled  fancy  —  whose  errors 
but  inimitable  whim  —  whose  darkest  vice  but  a  careless  and 
dashing  extravagance  ? 

I  had  been  now  two  years  successfully  busied  in  this  way, 

10  when  there  came  to  the  university  a  young  parvenu  nobleman, 
Glendinning  —  rich,  said  report,  as  Herodes  Atticus  —  his 
riches,  too,  as  easily  acquired.  I  soon  found  him  of  weak 
intellect,  and  of  course  marked  him  as  a  fitting  subject  for  my 
skill.  I  frequently  engaged  him  in  play,  and  contrived,  with 

15  the  gambler's  usual  art,  to  let  him  win  considerable  sums,  the 
more  effectually  to  entangle  him  in  my  snares.  At  length,  my 
schemes  being  ripe,  I  met  him  (with  the  full  intention  that 
this  meeting  should  be  final  and  decisive)  at  the  chambers  of 
a  fellow-commoner  (Mr.  Preston)  equally  intimate  with  both, 

20  but  who,  to  do  him  justice,  entertained  not  even  a  remote  sus 
picion  of  my  design.  To  give  to  this  a  better  coloring,  I  had 
contrived  to  have  assembled  a  party  of  some  eight  or  ten,  and 
was  solicitously  careful  that  the  introduction  of  cards  should 
appear  accidental,  and  originate  in  the  proposal  of  my  contem- 

25  plated  dupe  himself.  To  be  brief  upon  a  vile  topic,  none  of 
the  low  finesse  was  omitted,  so  customary  upon  similar  occa 
sions  that  it  is  a  just  matter  for  wonder  how  any  are  still  found 
so  besotted  as  to  fall  its  victim. 

We  had  protracted  our  sitting  far  into  the  night,  and  I  had 

30  at  length  effected  the  manoeuvre  of  getting  Glendinning  as  my 
sole  antagonist.  The  game,  too,  was  my  favorite  ecarte.  The 
rest  of  the  company,  interested  in  the  extent  of  our  play,  had 
abandoned  their  own  cards,  and  were  standing  around  us  as 
spectators.  The  parvenu,  who  had  been  induced,  by  my 

35  artifices  in  the  early  part  of  the  evening,  to  drink  deeply,  now 


WILLIAM   WILSON  87 

shuffled,  dealt,  or  played,  with  a  wild  nervousness  of  manner 
for  which  his  intoxication,  I  thought,  might  partially  but  could 
not  altogether  account.  In  a  very  short  period  he  had  become 
my  debtor  to  a  large  amount,  when,  having  taken  a  long 
draught  of  port,  he  did  precisely  what  I  had  been  coolly  antici-  5 
pating  —  he  proposed  to  double  our  already  extravagant  stakes. 
With  a  well-feigned  show  of  reluctance,  and  not  until  after  my 
repeated  refusal  had  seduced  him  into  some  angry  words  which 
gave  a  color  of  pique  to  my  compliance,  did  I  finally  comply. 
The  result,  of  course,  did  but  prove  how  entirely  the  prey  was  10 
in  my  toils  ;  in  less  than  an  hour  he  had  quadrupled  his  debt. 
For  some  time  his  countenance  had  been  losing  the  florid 
tinge  lent  it  by  the  wine  ;  but  now,  to  my  astonishment,  I  per 
ceived  that  it  had  grown  to  a  pallor  truly  fearful.  I  say,  to  my 
astonishment.  Glendinning  had  been  represented  to  my  eager  15 
inquiries  as  immeasurably  wealthy  ;  and  the  sums  which  he  had 
as  yet  lost,  although  in  themselves  vast,  could  not,  I  supposed, 
very  seriously  annoy,  much  less  so  violently  affect  him.  That 
he  was  overcome  by  the  wine  just  swallowed,  was  the  idea 
which  most  readily  presented  itself ;  and,  rather  with  a  view  20 
to  the  preservation  of  my  own  character  in  the  eyes  of  my 
associates,  than  from  any  less  interested  motive,  I  was  about 
to  insist,  peremptorily,  upon  a  discontinuance  of  the  play, 
when  some  expressions  at  my  elbow  from  among  the  company, 
and  an  ejaculation  evincing  utter  despair  on  the  part  of  25 
Glendinning,  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  had  effected  his 
total  ruin  under  circumstances  which,  rendering  him  an  object 
for  the  pity  of  all,  should  have  protected  him  from  the  ill 
offices  even  of  a  fiend. 

What  now  might  have  been  my  conduct  it  is  difficult  to  say.  30 
The  pitiable  condition  of  my  dupe  had  thrown  an  air  of  em 
barrassed  gloom  over  all ;  and  for  some  moments  a  profound 
silence  was  maintained,  during  which  I  could  not  help  feeling 
my  cheeks  tingle  with  the  many  burning  glances  of  scorn  or 
reproach  cast  upon  me  by  the  less  abandoned  of  the  party.  I  35 


88  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

will  even  own  that  an  intolerable  weight  of  anxiety  was  for  a 
brief  instant  lifted  from  my  bosom  by  the  sudden  and  extraor 
dinary  interruption  which  ensued.  The  wide,  heavy  folding- 
doors  of  the  apartment  were  all  at  once  thrown  open,  to  their 
5  full  extent,  with  a  vigorous  and  rushing  impetuosity  that  ex 
tinguished,  as  if  by  magic,  every  candle  in  the  room.  Their 
light,  in  dying,  enabled  us  just  to  perceive  that  a  stranger  had 
entered,  about  my  own  height,  and  closely  muffled  in  a  cloak. 
The  darkness,  however,  was  now  total ;  and  we  could  only /<?<?/ 

10  that  he  was  standing  in  our  midst.  Before  any  one  of  us  could 
recover  from  the  extreme  astonishment  into  which  this  rude 
ness  had  thrown  all,  we  heard  the  voice  of  the  intruder. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  distinct,  and  never-to-be- 
forgotten  whisper  which  thrilled  to  the  very  marrow  of  my 

15  bones,  "gentlemen,  I  make  no  apology  for  this  behavior, 
because,  in  thus  behaving,  I  am  but  fulfilling  a  duty.  You  are, 
beyond  doubt,  uninformed  of  the  true  character  of  the  person 
who  has  to-night  won  at  ecarte  a  large  sum  of  money  from  Lord 
Glendinning.  I  will  therefore  put  you  upon  an  expeditious  and 

20  decisive  plan  of  obtaining  this 'very  necessary  information. 
Please  to  examine,  at  your  leisure,  the  inner  linings  of  the  cuff 
of  his  left  sleeve,  and  the  several  little  packages  which  may  be 
found  in  the  somewhat  capacious  pockets  of  his  embroidered 
morning  wrapper." 

25  While  he  spoke,  so  profound  was  the  stillness  that  one  might 
have  heard  a  pin  drop  upon  the  floor.  In  ceasing,  he  departed 
at  once,  and  as  abruptly  as  he  had  entered.  Can  I  —  shall  I 
describe  my  sensations?  Must  I  say  that  I  felt  all  the  horrors 
of  the  damned?  Most  assuredly  I  had  little  time  for  reflection. 

30  Many  hands  roughly  seized  me  upon  the  spot,  and  lights  were 
immediately  re-procured.  A  search  ensued.  In  the  lining  of 
my  sleeve  were  found  all  the  court  cards  essential  in  ecarte, 
and,  in  the  pockets  of  my  wrapper,  a  number  of  packs,  fac 
similes  of  those  used  at  our  sittings,  with  the  single  exception 

35  that  mine  were  of  the  species  called,  technically,  arrondis  ;  the 


WILLIAM  WILSON  89 

honors  being  slightly  convex  at  the  ends,  the  lower  cards 
slightly  convex  at  the  sides.  In  this  disposition,  the  dupe  who 
cuts,  as  customary,  at  the  length  of  the  pack,  will  invariably 
find  that  he  cuts  his  antagonist  an  honor ;  while  the  gambler, 
cutting  at  the  breadth,  will,  as  certainly,  cut  nothing  for  his  5 
victim  which  may  count  in  the  records  of  the  game. 

Any  burst  of  indignation  upon  this  discovery  would  have 
affected  me  less  than  the  silent  contempt,  or  the  sarcastic  com 
posure,  with  which  it  was  received. 

"  Mr.  Wilson,"   said  our   host,  stooping   to   remove  from  10 
beneath  his  feet  an  exceedingly  luxurious  cloak  of  rare  furs, 
"  Mr.  Wilson,  this  is  your  property."    (The  weather  was  cold  ; 
and,  upon  quitting  my  own  room,  I  had  thrown  a  cloak  over 
my  dressing  wrapper,  putting  it  off  upon  reaching  the  scene  of 
play.)    "I  presume  it  is  supererogatory  to  seek  here"  (eying  15 
the  folds  of  the  garment  with  a  bitter  smile)  "  for  any  farther 
evidence  of  your  skill.    Indeed,  we  have  had  enough.    You 
will  see  the  necessity,  I    hope,  of  quitting  Oxford  —  at  all 
events,  of  quitting  instantly  my  chambers." 

Abased,  humbled  to  the  dust  as  I  then  was,  it  is  probable  20 
that  I  should  have  resented  this  galling  language  by  immedi 
ate  personal  violence,  had  not  my  whole  attention  been  at  the 
moment  arrested  by  a  fact  of  the  most  startling  character.  The 
cloak  which  I  had  worn  was  of  a  rare  description  of  fur ;  how 
rare,  how  extravagantly  costly,  I  shall  not  venture  to  say.  Its  25 
fashion,  too,  was  of  my  own  fantastic  invention ;  for  I  was 
fastidious  to  an  absurd  degree  of  coxcombry,  in  matters  of  this 
frivolous  nature.  When,  therefore,  Mr.  Preston  reached  me 
that  which  he  had  picked  up  upon  the  floor,  and  near  the 
folding-doors  of  the  apartment,  it  was  with  an  astonishment  30 
nearly  bordering  upon  terror,  that  I  perceived  my  own  already 
hanging  on  my  arm,  (where  I  had  no  doubt  unwittingly  placed 
it)  and  that  the  one  presented  me  was  but  its  exact  counter 
part  in  every,  in  even  the  minutest  possible  particular.  The 
singular  being  who  had  so  disastrously  exposed  me,  had  been  35 


90  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

muffled,  I  remembered,  in  a  cloak ;  and  none  had  been  worn 
at  all  by  any  of  the  members  of  our  party,  with  the  exception 
of  myself.  Retaining  some  presence  of  mind,  I  took  the  one 
offered  me  by  Preston  ;  placed  it,  unnoticed,  over  my  own  ;  left 
5  the  apartment  with  a  resolute  scowl  of  defiance ;  and,  next  morn 
ing  ere  dawn  of  day,  commenced  a  hurried  journey  from  Oxford 
to  the  continent,  in  a  perfect  agony  of  horror  and  of  shame. 

I  fled  in  vain.    My  evil  destiny  pursued  me  as  if  in  exulta 
tion,  and  proved,  indeed,  that  the  exercise  of  its  mysterious 

10  dominion  had  as  yet  only  begun.  Scarcely  had  I  set  foot  in 
Paris,  ere  I  had  fresh  evidence  of  the  detestable  interest  taken 
by  this  Wilson  in  my  concerns.  Years  flew,  while  I  experienced 
no  relief.  Villain  !  —  at  Rome,  with  how  untimely,  yet  with 
how  spectral  an  ofificiousness,  stepped  he  in  between  me  and 

15  my  ambition  !  At  Vienna,  too  —  at  Berlin  —  and  at  Moscow  ! 
Where,  in  truth,  had  I  not  bitter  cause  to  curse  him  within  my 
heart?  From  his  inscrutable  tyranny  did  I  at  length  flee, 
panic-stricken,  as  from  a  pestilence ;  and  to  the  very  ends  of 
the  earth  I  fled  in  vain. 

20  And  again,  and  again,  in  secret  communion  with  my  own 
spirit,  would  I  demand  the  questions,  "Who  is  he?  —  whence 
came  he?  —  and  what  are  his  objects?"  But  no  answer  was 
there  found.  And  now  I  scrutinized,  with  a  minute  scrutiny, 
the  forms,  and  the  methods,  and  the  leading  traits  of  his  im- 

25  pertinent  supervision.  But  even  here  there  was  very  little 
upon  which  to  base  a  conjecture.  It  was  noticeable,  indeed, 
that,  in  no  one  of  the  multiplied  instances  in  which  he  had  of 
late  crossed  my  path,  had  he  so  crossed  it  except  to  frustrate 
those  schemes,  or  to  disturb  those  actions,  which,  if  fully  carried 

30  out,  might  have  resulted  in  bitter  mischief.  Poor  justification 
this,  in  truth,  for  an  authority  so  imperiously  assumed  !  Poor 
indemnity  for  natural  rights  of  self-agency  so  pertinaciously, 
so  insultingly  denied  ! 

I  had  also  been  forced  to  notice  that  my  tormentor,  for  a  very 

35  long  period  of  time  (while  scrupulously  and  with  miraculous 


WILLIAM  WILSON  91 

dexterity  maintaining  his  whim  of  an  identity  of  apparel  with 
myself)  had  so  contrived  it,  in  the  execution  of  his  varied 
interference  with  my  will,  that  I  saw  not,  at  any  moment,  the 
features  of  his  face.  Be  Wilson  what  he  might,  this,  at  least, 
was  but  the  veriest  of  affectation,  or  of  folly.  Could  he,  5 
for  an  instant,  have  supposed  that,  in  my  admonisher  at  Eton 
—  in  the  destroyer  of  my  honor  at  Oxford,  —  in  him  who 
thwarted  my  ambition  at  Rome,  my  revenge  at  Paris,  my 
passionate  love  at  Naples,  or  what  he  falsely  termed  my  avarice 
in  Egypt,  —  that  in  this,  my  arch-enemy  and  evil  genius,  I  10 
could  fail  to  recognize  the  William  Wilson  of  my  school-boy 
days  :  the  namesake,  the  companion,  the  rival,  the  hated  and 
dreaded  rival  at  Dr.  Bransby's?  Impossible!  —  but  let  me 
hasten  to  the  last  eventful  scene  of  the  drama. 

Thus  far  I  had  succumbed  supinely  to  this  imperious  domi-  15 
nation.    The  sentiment  of  deep  awe  with  which  I  habitually 
regarded  the  elevated  character,  the  majestic  wisdom,   the 
apparent  omnipresence  and  omnipotence  of  Wilson,  added  to 
a  feeling  of  even  terror,  with  which  certain  other  traits  in  his 
nature  and  assumptions  inspired  me,  had  operated,  hitherto,  20 
to  impress  me  with  an  idea  of  my  own  utter  weakness  and 
helplessness,  and  to  suggest  an  implicit,  although  bitterly  reluc 
tant  submission  to  his  arbitrary  will.    But,  of  late  days,  I  had 
given  myself  up  entirely  to  wine ;  and  its  maddening  influence 
upon    my  hereditary  temper    rendered   me   more    and    more  25 
impatient  of  control.    I  began  to  murmur,  to  hesitate,  to  resist. 
And  was  it  only  fancy  which  induced  me  to  believe  that,  with 
the  increase  of  my  own  firmness,  that  of  my  tormentor  under 
went  a  proportional  diminution?    Be  this  as  it  may,  I  now 
began  to  feel  the  inspiration  of  a  burning  hope,  and  at  length  30 
nurtured  in  my  secret  thoughts  a  stern  and  desperate  resolu 
tion  that  I  would  submit  no  longer  to  be  enslaved. 

It  was  at  Rome,  during  the  Carnival  of  1 8 — ,  that  I  attended 
a  masquerade  in  the  palazzo  of  the  Neapolitan  Duke  Di 
Broglio.  I  had  indulged  more  freely  than  usual  in  the  excesses  35 


92  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

of  the  wine-table ;  and  now  the  suffocating  atmosphere  of  the 
crowded  rooms  irritated  me  beyond  endurance.  The  difficulty, 
too,  of  forcing  my  way  through  the  mazes  of  the  company 
contributed  not  a  little  to  the  ruffling  of  my  temper ;  for  I 
5  was  anxiously  seeking  (let  me  not  say  with  what  unworthy 
motive)  the  young,  the  gay,  the  beautiful  wife  of  the  aged  and 
doting  Di  Broglio.  With  a  too  unscrupulous  confidence  she 
had  previously  communicated  to  me  the  secret  of  the  costume 
in  which  she  would  be  habited,  and  now,  having  caught  a 

10  glimpse  of  her  person,  I  was  hurrying  to  make  my  way  into 
her  presence.  At  this  moment  I  felt  a  light  hand  placed  upon 
my  shoulder,  and  that  ever-remembered,  low,  damnable  whis 
per  within  my  ear. 

In  an  absolute  frenzy  of  wrath,  I  turned  at  once  upon  him 

1 5  who  had  thus  interrupted  me,  and  seized  him  violently  by  the 
collar.  He  was  attired,  as  I  had  expected,  in  a  costume  alto 
gether  similar  to  my  own ;  wearing  a  Spanish  cloak  of  blue 
velvet,  begirt  about  the  waist  with  a  crimson  belt  sustaining  a 
rapier.  A  mask  of  black  silk  entirely  covered  his  face. 

20  "Scoundrel  !"  I  said,  in  a  voice  husky  with  rage,  while 
every  syllable  I  uttered  seemed  as  new  fuel  to  my  fury  ; 
"  scoundrel  !  impostor  !  accursed  villain  !  you  shall  not  —  you 
shall  not  dog  me  unto  death  !  Follow  me,  or  I  stab  you  where 
you  stand  !  "  — and  I  broke  my  way  from  the  ball-room  into 

25  a  small  ante-chamber  adjoining,  dragging  him  unresistingly 
with  me  as  I  went. 

Upon  entering,  I  thrust  him  furiously  from  me.  He  stag 
gered  against  the  wall,  while  I  closed  the  door  with  an  oath, 
and  commanded  him  to  draw.  He  hesitated  but  for  an  instant ; 

30  then,  with  a  slight  sigh,  drew  in  silence,  and  put  himself  upon 
his  defence. 

The  contest  was  brief  indeed.  I  was  frantic  with  every 
species  of  wild  excitement,  and  felt  within  my  single  arm  the 
energy  and  power  of  a  multitude.  In  a  few  seconds  I  forced 

35  him  by  sheer  strength  against  the  wainscoting,  and  thus,  getting 


WILLIAM  WILSON  93 

him  at  mercy,  plunged  my  sword,  with  brute  ferocity,  repeatedly 
through  and  through  his  bosom. 

At  that  instant  some  person  tried  the  latch  of  the  door.  I 
hastened  to  prevent  an  intrusion,  and  then  immediately 
returned  to  my  dying  antagonist.  But  what  human  language  5 
can  adequately  portray  that  astonishment,  that  horror  which 
possessed  me  at  the  spectacle  then  presented  to  view?  The 
brief  moment  in  which  I  averted  my  eyes  had  been  sufficient 
to  produce,  apparently,  a  material  change  in  the  arrangements 
at  the  upper  or  farther  end  of  the  room.  A  large  mirror  —  so  10 
at  first  it  seemed  to  me  in  my  confusion  —  now  stood  where 
none  had  been  perceptible  before ;  and,  as  I  stepped  up  to  it 
in  extremity  of  terror,  mine  own  image,  but  with  features  all 
pale  and  dabbled  in  blood,  advanced  to  meet  me  with  a  feeble 
and  tottering  gait.  15 

Thus  it  appeared,  I  say,  but  was  not.  It  was  my  antagonist 
—  it  was  Wilson,  who  then  stood  before  me  in  the  agonies  of 
his  dissolution.  His  mask  and  cloak  lay,  where  he  had  thrown 
them,  upon  the  floor.  Not  a  thread  in  all  his  raiment  —  not 
a  line  in  all  the  marked  and  singular  lineaments  of  his  face  20 
which  was  not,  even  in  the  most  absolute  identity,  mine  own  ! 

It  was  Wilson ;  but  he  spoke  no  longer  in  a  whisper,  and  I 
could  have  fancied  that  I  myself  was  speaking  while  he  said  :  — 

"  You  have  conquered,  and  I  yield.     Yet,  henceforward  art 
thou  also  dead — dead  to  the  World,  to  Heaven  and  to  Hope  !  25 
In  me  didst  thou  exist  —  and,  in  my  death,  see  by  this  image, 
which  is  thine  own,  how  utterly  thou  hast  murdered  thyself" 


A  DESCENT  INTO  THE  MAELSTROM 

The  ways  of  God  in  Nature,  as  in  Providence,  are  not  as  our 
ways ;  nor  are  the  models  that  we  frame  any  way  commensurate  to  the 
vastness,  profundity,  and  unsearchableness  of  His  works,  which  have 
a  depth  in  them  greater  than  the  well  of  Democritus. 

JOSEPH  GLANVILLE 

We  had  now  reached  the  summit  of  the  loftiest  crag.  For 
some  minutes  the  old  man  seemed  too  much  exhausted  to 
speak. 

"Not  long  ago,"  said  he  at  length,  "and  I  could  have 
5  guided  you  on  this  route  as  well  as  the  youngest  of  my  sons ; 
but,  about  three  years  past,  there  happened  to  me  an  event 
such  as  never  happened  before  to  mortal  man  —  or  at  least 
such  as  no  man  ever  survived  to  tell  of  —  and  the  six  hours 
of  deadly  terror  which  I  then  endured  have  broken  me  up 

10  body  and  soul.  You  suppose  me  a  very  old  man  —  but  I  am 
not.  It  took  less  than  a  single  day  to  change  these  hairs  from 
a  jetty  black  to  white,  to  weaken  my  limbs,  and  to  unstring  my 
nerves,  so  that  I  tremble  at  the  least  exertion,  and  am  fright 
ened  at  a  shadow.  Do  you  know  I  can  scarcely  look  over  this 

15  little  cliff  without  getting  giddy?  " 

The  "  little  cliff,"  upon  whose  edge  he  had  so  carelessly 
thrown  himself  down  to  rest  that  the  weightier  portion  of  his 
body  hung  over  it,  while  he  was  only  kept  from  falling  by  the 
tenure  of  his  elbow  on  its  extreme  and  slippery  edge  —  this 

20  "  little  cliff"  arose,  a  sheer  unobstructed  precipice  of  black 
shining  rock,  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  hundred  feet  from  the 
world  of  crags  beneath  us.  Nothing  would  have  tempted  me 
to  within  half  a  dozen  yards  of  its  brink.  In  truth  so  deeply 
was  I  excited  by  the  perilous  position  of  my  companion,  that 

94 


A  DESCENT    INTO   THE   MAELSTROM  95 

I  fell  at  full  length  upon  the  ground,  clung  to  the  shrubs 
around  me,  and  dared  not  even  glance  upward  at  the  sky  — 
while  I  struggled  in  vain  to  divest  myself  of  the  idea  that  the 
very  foundations  of  the  mountain  were  in  danger  from  the 
fury  of  the  winds.    It  was  long  before  I  could  reason  myself    5 
into  sufficient  courage  to  sit  up  and  look  out  into  the  distance. 

"  You  must  get  over  these  fancies,"  said  the  guide,  "  for  I 
have  brought  you  here  that  you  might  have  the  best  possible 
view  of  the  scene  of  that  event  I  mentioned  —  and  to  tell  you 
the  whole  story  with  the  spot  just  under  your  eye.  10 

"  We  are  now,"  he  continued,  in  that  particularizing  manner 
which  distinguished  him  —  "we  are  now  close  upon  the  Nor 
wegian  coast  —  in  the  sixty-eighth  degree  of  latitude  —  in  the 
great  province  of  Nordland  —  and  in  the  dreary  district  of 
Lofoden.  The  mountain  upon  whose  top  we  sit  is  Helseggen,  15 
the  Cloudy.  Now  raise  yourself  up  a  little  higher  —  hold  on 
to  the  grass  if  you  feel  giddy  —  so  —  and  look  out,  beyond 
the  belt  of  vapor  beneath  us,  into  the  sea." 

I  looked  dizzily,  and  beheld  a  wide  expanse  of  ocean,  whose 
waters  wore  so  inky  a  hue  as  to  bring  at  once  to  my  mind  the  20 
Nubian  geographer's  account  of  the  Mare  Tenebrarum.  A 
panorama  more  deplorably  desolate  no  human  imagination 
can  conceive.  To  the  right  and  left,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  there  lay  outstretched,  like  ramparts  of  the  world,  lines 
of  horridly  black  and  beetling  cliff,  whose  character  of  gloom  25 
was  but  the  more  forcibly  illustrated  by  the  surf  which  reared 
high  up  against  it  its  white  and  ghastly  crest,  howling  and 
shrieking  forever.  Just  opposite  the  promontory  upon  whose 
apex  we  were  placed,  and  at  a  distance  of  some  five  or  six 
miles  out  at  sea,  there  was  visible  a  small,  bleak-looking  island  ;  30 
or,  more  properly,  its  position  was  discernible  through  the 
wilderness  of  surge  in  which  it  was  enveloped.  About  two 
miles  nearer  the  land  arose  another  of  smaller  size,  hideously 
craggy  and  barren,  and  encompassed  at  various  intervals  by 
a  cluster  of  dark  rocks.  35 


96  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

The  appearance  of  the  ocean,  in  the  space  between  the 
more  distant  island  and  the  shore,  had  something  very  unusual 
about  it.  Although,  at  the  time,  so  strong  a  gale  was  blowing 
landward  that  a  brig  in  the  remote  offing  lay  to  under  a  double- 

5  reefed  trysail,  and  constantly  plunged  her  whole  hull  out  of 
sight,  still  there  was  here  nothing  like  a  regular  swell,  but  only 
a  short,  quick,  angry  cross  dashing  of  water  in  every  direction 
—  as  well  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind  as  otherwise.  Of  foam 
there  was  little  except  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  rocks. 

10  "The  island  in  the  distance,"  resumed  the  old  man,  "is 
called  by  the  Norwegians  Vurrgh.  The  one  midway  is  Moskoe. 
That  a  mile  to  the  northward  is  Ambaaren.  Yonder  are 
Iflesen,  Hoeyholm,  Kieldholm,  Suarven,  and  Buckholm. 
Farther  off  —  between  Moskoe  and  Vurrgh  —  are  Otterholm, 

15  Flimen,  Sandflesen,  and  Skarholm.    These  are  the  true  names 

of  the  places  —  but  why  it  has  been  thought  necessary  to  name 

them  at  all  is  more  than  either  you  or  I  can  understand.    Do 

you  hear  anything?    Do  you  see  any  change  in  the  water?  " 

We  had  now  been  about  ten  minutes  upon  the  top  of  Hel- 

20  seggen,  to  which  we  had  ascended  from  the  interior  of  Lofo- 
den,  so  that  we  had  caught  no  glimpse  of  the  sea  until  it  had 
burst  upon  us  from  the  summit.  As  the  old  man  spoke,  I 
became  aware  of  a  loud  and  gradually  increasing  sound,  like 
the  moaning  of  a  vast  herd  of  buffaloes  upon  an  American 

25  prairie;  and  at  the  same- moment  I  perceived  that  what  sea 
men  term  the  chopping  character  of  the  ocean  beneath  us,  was 
rapidly  changing  into  a  current  which  set  to  the  eastward. 
Even  while  I  gazed,  this  current  acquired  a  monstrous  velocity. 
Each  moment  added  to  its  speed  —  to  its  headlong  impetu- 

30  osity.  In  five  minutes  the  whole  sea,  as  far  as  Vurrgh,  was 
lashed  into  ungovernable  fury;  but  it  was  between  Moskoe 
and  the  coast  that  the  main  uproar  held  its  sway.  Here  the 
vast  bed  of  the  waters,  seamed  and  scarred  into  a  thousand 
conflicting  channels,  burst  suddenly  into  frenzied  convulsion  — 

35  heaving,  boiling,  hissing — gyrating  in  gigantic  and  innumerable 


A  DESCENT   INTO   THE    MAELSTROM  97 

vortices,  and  all  whirling  and  plunging  on  to  the  eastward 
with  a  rapidity  which  water  never  elsewhere  assumes,  except 
in  precipitous  descents. 

In  a  few  minutes  more,  there  came  over  the  scene  another 
radical  alteration.    The  general  surface  grew  somewhat  more    5 
smooth,  and  the  whirlpools,  one  by  one,  disappeared,  while 
prodigious  streaks  of  foam  became  apparent  where  none  had 
been  seen  before.    These  streaks,  at  length,  spreading  out  to 
a  great  distance,  and  entering  into  combination,  took  unto 
themselves  the  gyratory  motion  of  the  subsided  vortices,  and  10 
seemed  to  form  the  germ  of  another  more  vast.    Suddenly  — 
very  suddenly  —  this  assumed  a  distinct  and  definite  existence, 
in  a  circle  of  more  than  a  mile  in  diameter.    The  edge  of  the 
whirl  was  represented  by  a  broad  belt  of  gleaming  spray ;  but 
no  particle  of  this  slipped  into  the  mouth  of  the  terrific  funnel,  1 5 
whose  interior,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  fathom  it,  was  a  smooth, 
shining,  and  jet-black  wall  of  water,  inclined  to  the  horizon  at 
an  angle  of  some  forty-five   degrees,  speeding  dizzily  round 
and  round  with  a  swaying  and  sweltering  motion,  and  sending 
forth  to  the  winds  an  appalling  voice,  half  shriek,  half  roar,  20 
such  as  not  even  the  mighty  cataract  of  Niagara  ever  lifts  up 
in  its  agony  to  Heaven. 

The  mountain  trembled  to  its  very  base,  and  the  rock 
rocked.  I  threw  myself  upon  my  face,  and  clung  to  the  scant 
herbage  in  an  excess  of  nervous  agitation.  25 

"This,"  said  I  at  length,  to  the  old  man  —  "this  can  be 
nothing  else  than  the  great  whirlpool  of  the  Maelstrom." 

"  So  it  is  sometimes  termed,"  said  he.  "  We  Norwegians 
call  it  the  Moskoe-strom,  from  the  island  of  Moskoe  in  the 
midway."  30 

The  ordinary  accounts  of  this  vortex  had  by  no  means  pre 
pared  me  for  what  I  saw.  That  of  Jonas  Ramus,  which  is 
perhaps  the  most  circumstantial  of  any,  cannot  impart  the 
faintest  conception  either  of  the  magnificence  or  of  the  horror 
of  the  scene  —  or  of  the  wild  bewildering  sense  of  the  novel  35 


98  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

which  confounds  the  beholder.  I  am  not  sure  from  what  point 
of  view  the  writer  in  question  surveyed  it,  nor  at  what  time  ; 
but  it  could  neither  have  been  from  the  summit  of  Helseggen, 
nor  during  a  storm.  There  are  some  passages  of  his  descrip- 

5  tion,  nevertheless,  which  may  be  quoted  for  their  details, 
although  their  effect  is  exceedingly  feeble  in  conveying  an 
impression  of  the  spectacle. 

"Between  Lofoden  and  Moskoe,"  he  says,  "the  depth  of 
the  water  is  between  thirty-six  and  forty  fathoms ;  but  on  the 

10  other  side,  toward  Ver  (Vurrgh),  this  depth  decreases  so  as 
not  to  afford  a  convenient  passage  for  a  vessel,  without  the 
risk  of  splitting  on  the  rocks,  which  happens  even  in  the 
calmest  weather.  When  it  is  flood,  the  stream  runs  up 
the  country  between  Lofoden  and  Moskoe  with  a  boisterous 

15  rapidity;  but  the  roar  of  its  impetuous  ebb  to  the  sea  is 
scarce  equalled  by  the  loudest  and  most  dreadful  cataracts, 
the  noise  being  heard  several  leagues  off ;  and  the  vortices  or 
pits  are  of  such  an  extent  and  depth,  that  if  a  ship  comes 
within  its  attraction,  it  is  inevitably  absorbed  and  carried 

20  down  to  the  bottom,  and  there  beat  to  pieces  against  the 
rocks;  and  when  the  water  relaxes,  the  fragments  thereof 
are  thrown  up  again.  But  these  intervals  of  tranquillity  are 
only  at  the  turn  of  the  ebb  and  flood,  and  in  calm  weather, 
and  last  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  its  violence  gradually  return- 

25  ing.  When  the  stream  is  most  boisterous,  and  its  fury  height 
ened  by  a  storm,  it  is  dangerous  to  come  within  a  Norway 
mile  of  it.  Boats,  yachts,  and  ships  have  been  carried  away 
by  not  guarding  against  it  before'  they  were  within  its  reach. 
It  likewise  happens  frequently  that  whales  come  too  near  the 

30  stream,  and  are  overpowered  by  its  violence ;  and  then  it  is 
impossible  to  describe  their  howlings  and  bellowings  in  their 
fruitless  struggles  to  disengage  themselves.  A  bear  once, 
attempting  to  swim  from  Lofoden  to  Moskoe,  was  caught  by 
the  stream  and  borne  down,  while  he  roared  terribly,  so  as  to 

35  be  heard  on  shore.    Large  stocks  of  firs  and  pine  trees,  after 


A  DESCENT   INTO   THE    MAELSTROM  99 

being  absorbed  by  the  current,  rise  again  broken  and  torn  to 
such  a  degree  as  if  bristles  grew  upon  them.  This  plainly 
shows  the  bottom  to  consist  of  craggy  rocks,  among  which 
they  are  whirled  to  and  fro.  This  stream  is  regulated  by  the 
flux  and  reflux  of  the  sea  —  it  being  constantly  high  and  low  5 
water  every  six  hours.  In  the  year  1645,  early  in  the  morning 
of  Sexagesima  Sunday,  it  raged  with  such  noise  and  impetu 
osity  that  the  very  stones  of  the  houses  on  the  coast  fell  to 
the  ground." 

In  regard  to  the  depth  of  the  water,  I  could  not  see  how  10 
this  could  have  been  ascertained  at  all  in  the  immediate  vicin 
ity  of  the  vortex.    The  "  forty  fathoms  "  must  have  reference 
only  to  portions  of  the  channel  close  upon  the  shore  either  of 
Moskoe  or  Lofoden.    The  depth  in  the  centre  of  the  Moskoe- 
strom  must  be  immeasurably  greater;  and  no  better  proof  of  15 
this  fact  is  necessary  than  can  be  obtained  from  even  the 
sidelong  glance  into  the  abyss  of  the  whirl  which  may  be  had 
from  the  highest  crag  of  Helseggen.    Looking  down  from  this 
pinnacle   upon  the   howling  Phlegethon   below,.  I  could  not 
help  smiling  at  the  simplicity  with  which  the  honest  Jonas  20 
Ramus  records,  as  a  matter  difficult  of  belief,  the  anecdotes 
of  the  whales  and  the  bears ;  for  it  appeared  to  me,  in  fact, 
a  self-evident  thing  that  the  largest  ships  of  the  line  in  exist 
ence,  coming  within  the  influence  of  that  deadly  attraction, 
could  resist  it  as  little  as  a  feather  the  hurricane,  and  must  25 
disappear  bodily  and  at  once. 

The  attempts  to  account  for  the  phenomenon  —  some  of 
which,  I  remember,  seemed  to  me  sufficiently  plausible  in 
perusal  —  now  wore  a  very  different  and  unsatisfactory  aspect. 
The  idea  generally  received  is  that  this,  as  well  as  three  30 
smaller  vortices  among  the  Feroe  Islands,  "have  no  other 
cause  than  the  collision  of  waves  rising  and  falling,  at  flux 
and  reflux,  against  a  ridge  of  rocks  and  shelves,  which  con 
fines  the  water  so  that  it  precipitates  itself  like  a  cataract; 
and  thus  the  higher  the  flood  rises,  the  deeper  must  the  fall  35 


100  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

be,  and  the  natural  result  of  all  is  a  whirlpool  or  vortex,  the 
prodigious  suction  of  which  is  sufficiently  known  by  lesser 
experiments." --These  are  the  words  of  the  "Encyclopaedia 
Britannica."  Kircher  and  others  imagine  that  in  the  centre 

5  of  the  channel  of  the  Maelstrom  is  an  abyss  penetrating  the 
globe,  and  issuing  in  some  very  remote  part  —  the  Gulf  of 
Bothnia  being  somewhat  decidedly  named  in  one  instance. 
This  opinion,  idle  in  itself,  was  the  one  to  which,  as  I  gazed, 
my  imagination  most  readily  assented ;  and,  mentioning  it  to 

10  the  guide,  I  was  rather  surprised  to  hear  him  say  that,  although 
it  was  the  view  almost  universally  entertained  of  the  subject 
by  the  Norwegians,  it  nevertheless  was  not  his  own.  As  to 
the  former  notion  he  confessed  his  inability  to  comprehend 
it;  and  here  I  agreed  with  him — for,  however  conclusive  on 

15  paper,  it  becomes  altogether  unintelligible,  and  even  absurd, 
amid  the  thunder  of  the  abyss. 

"  You  have  had  a  good  look  at  the  whirl  now,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  and  if  you  will  creep  round  this  crag,  so  as  to  get  in 
its  lee,  and  deaden  the  roar  of  the  water,  I  will  tell  you  a 

20  story  that  will  convince  you  I  ought  to  know  something  of 
the  Moskoe-strom." 

I  placed  myself  as  desired,  and  he  proceeded. 
"  Myself  and  my  two  brothers  once  owned  a  schooner-rigged 
smack  of  about  seventy  tons  burden,  with  which  we  were  in 

25  the  habit  of  fishing  among  the  islands  beyond  Moskoe,  nearly 
to  Vurrgh.  In  all  violent  eddies  at  sea  there  is  good  fishing, 
at  proper  opportunities,  if  one  has  only  the  courage  to  attempt 
it ;  but  among  the  whole  of  the  Lofoden  coastmen  we  three 
were  the  only  ones  who  made  a  regular  business  of  going  out 

30  to  the  islands,  as  I  tell  you.  The  usual  grounds  are  a  great 
way  lower  down  to  the  southward.  There  fish  can  be  got  at 
all  hours,  without  much  risk,  and  therefore  these  places  are 
preferred.  The  choice  spots  over  here  among  the  rocks,  how 
ever,  not  only  yield  the  finest  variety,  but  in  far  greater 

35  abundance ;  so  that  we  often  got  in  a  single  day  what  the 


A  DESCENT    INTO   THE    MAEivSTKQM          ioi 

more  timid  of  the  craft  could  not  scrape  together  in  a  week. 
In  fact,  we  made  it  a  matter  of  desperate  speculation  —  the 
risk  of  life  standing  instead  of  labor,  and  courage  answering 
for  capital. 

"  We  kept  the  smack  in  a  cove  about  five  miles  higher  up  5 
the  coast  than  this ;  and  it  was  our  practice,  in  fine  weather, 
to  take  advantage  of  the  fifteen  minutes'  slack  to  push  across 
the  main  channel  of  the  Moskoe-strom,  far  above  the  pool, 
and  then  drop  down  upon  anchorage  somewhere  near  Otter- 
holm,  or  Sandflesen,  where  the  eddies  are  not  so  violent  as  10 
elsewhere.    Here  we   used   to   remain  until  nearly  time  for 
slack-water  again,  when  we  weighed  and  made  for  home.    We 
never  set  out  upon  this  expedition  without  a  steady  side  wind 
for  going  and  coming  —  one  that  we  felt  sure  would  not  fail 
us  before  our  return  —  and  we  seldom  made  a  miscalculation  1 5 
upon  this  point.    Twice,  during  six  years,  we  were  forced  to 
stay  all  night  at  anchor  on  account  of  a  dead  calm,  which  is  a 
rare  thing  indeed  just  about  here  ;  and  once  we  had  to  remain 
on  the  grounds  nearly  a  week,  starving  to  death,  owing  to  a 
gale  which  blew  up  shortly  after  our  arrival,  and  made  the  20 
channel  too  boisterous  to  be  thought  of.    Upon  this  occasion 
we  should  have  been  driven  out  to  sea  in  spite  of  everything 
(for  the  whirlpools  threw  us  round  and  round  so  violently, 
that,  at  length,  we  fouled  our  anchor  and  dragged  it)  if  it  had 
not  been  that  we  drifted  into  one  of  the  innumerable  cross  25 
currents  —  here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow  —  which  drove  us 
under  the  lee  of  Flimen,  where,  by  good  luck,  we  brought  up. 

"  I  could  not  tell  you  the  twentieth  part  of  the  difficulties 
we  encountered  'on  the  ground  '  —  it  is  a  bad  spot  to  be  in, 
even  in  good  weather — -but  we  made  shift  always  to  run  the  30 
gauntlet  of  the  Moskoe-strom  itself  without  accident ;  although 
at  times  my  heart  has  been  in  my  mouth  when  we  happened 
to  be  a  minute  or  so  behind  or  before  the  slack.  The  wind 
sometimes  was  not  as  strong  as  we  thought  it  at  starting,  and 
then  we  made  rather  less  way  than  we  could  wish,  while  the  35 


102          .  -SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

current  rendered  the  smack  unmanageable.   My  eldest  brother 

had  a  son  eighteen  years  old,  and  I  had  two  stout  boys  of  my 

own.    These  would  have  been  of  great  assistance  at  such  times, 

in  using  the  sweeps,  as  well  as  afterward   in   fishing  —  but, 

5  somehow,  although  we  ran  the  risk  ourselves,  we  had  not  the 

heart  to  let  the  young  ones  get  into  the  danger  —  for,  after  all 

said  and  done,  it  was  a  horrible  danger,  and  that  is  the  truth. 

"  It  is  now  within  a  few  days  of  three  years  since  what  I  am 

going  to  tell  you  occurred.    It  was  on  the  tenth  of  July,  18 — , 

10  a  day  which  the  people  of  this  part  of  the  world  will  never 
forget  —  for  it  was  one  in  which  blew  the  most  terrible  hurri 
cane  that  ever  came  out  of  the  heavens.  And  yet  all  the 
morning,  and  indeed  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  there  was  a 
gentle  and  steady  breeze  from  the  south-west,  while  the  sun 

15  shone  brightly,  so  that  the  oldest  seamen  among  us  could  not 
have  forseen  what  was  to  follow. 

"  The  three  of  us  —  my  two  brothers  and  myself  —  had 
crossed  over  to  the  islands  about  two  o'clock  P.M.,  and  soon 
nearly  loaded  the  smack  with  fine  fish,  which,  we  all  remarked, 

20  were  more  plenty  that  day  than  we  had  ever  known  them.  It 
was  just  seven,  by  my  watch,  when  we  weighed  and  started  for 
home,  so  as  to  make  the  worst  of  the  Strom  at  slack  water, 
which  we  knew  would  be  at  eight. 

"  We  set  out  with  a  fresh  wind  on  our  starboard  quarter,  and 

25  for  some  time  spanked  along  at  a  great  rate,  never  dreaming 
of  danger,  for  indeed  we  saw  not  the  slightest  reason  to  appre 
hend  it.  All  at  once  we  were  taken  aback  by  a  breeze  from 
over  Helseggen.  This  was  most  unusual  —  something  that 
had  never  happened  to  us  before  —  and  I  began  to  feel  a 

30  little  uneasy,  without  exactly  knowing  why.  We  put  the  boat 
on  the  wind,  but  could  make  no  headway  at  all  for  the  eddies, 
and  I  was  upon  the  point  of  proposing  to  return  to  the  anchor 
age,  when,  looking  astern,  we  saw  the  whole  horizon  covered 
with  a  singular  copper-colored  cloud  that  rose  with  the  most 

35  amazing  velocity. 


A  DESCENT    INTO   THE   MAELSTROM          103 

"  In  the  meantime  the  breeze  that  had  headed  us  off  fell 
away,  and  we  were  dead  becalmed,  drifting  about  in  every 
direction.  This  state  of  things,  however,  did  not  last  long 
enough  to  give  us  time  to  think  about  it.  In  less  than  a 
minute  the  storm  was  upon  us  —  in  less  than  two  the  sky  was  5 
entirely  overcast  —  and  what  with  this  and  the  driving  spray, 
it  became  suddenly  so  dark  that  we  could  not  see  each  other 
in  the  smack. 

"  Such  a  hurricane  as  then  blew  it  is  folly  to  attempt 
describing.  The  oldest  seaman  in  Norway  never  experienced  10 
anything  like  it.  We  had  let  our  sails  go  by  the  run  before  it 
cleverly  took  us ;  but,  at  the  first  puff,  both  our  masts  went  by 
the  board  as  if  they  had  been  sawed  off  —  the  mainmast  tak 
ing  with  it  my  youngest  brother,  who  had  lashed  himself  to  it 
for  safety.  15 

"  Our  boat  was  the  lightest  feather  of  a  thing  that  ever  sat 
upon  water.  It  had  a  complete  flush  deck,  with  only  a  small 
hatch  near  the  bow,  and  this  hatch  it  had  always  been  our 
custom  to  batten  down  when  about  to  cross  the  Strom,  by  way 
of  precaution  against  the  chopping  seas.  But  for  this  circum-  20 
stance  we  should  have  foundered  at  once  —  for  we  lay  entirely 
buried  for  some  moments.  How  my  elder  brother  escaped 
destruction  I  cannot  say,  for  I  never  had  an  opportunity  of 
ascertaining.  For  my  part,  as  soon  as  I  had  let  the  foresail 
run,  I  threw  myself  flat  on  deck,  with  my  feet  against  the  25 
narrow  gunwale  of  the  bow,  and  with  my  hands  grasping  a 
ring-bolt  near  the  foot  of  the  foremast.  It  was  mere  instinct 
that  prompted  me  to  do  this  —  which  was  undoubtedly  the 
very  best  thing  I  could  have  done — for  I  was  too  much 
flurried  to  think.  30 

"  For  some  moments  we  were  completely  deluged,  as  I  say, 
and  all  this  time  I  held  my  breath,  and  clung  to  the  bolt. 
When  I  could  stand  it  no  longer  I  raised  myself  upon  my 
knees,  still  keeping  hold  with  my  hands,  and  thus  got  my 
head  clear.  Presently  our  little  boat  gave  herself  a  shake,  35 


104  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

just  as  a  dog  does  in  coming  out  of  the  water,  and  thus  rid 
herself,  in  some  measure,  of  the  seas.  I  was  now  trying  to  get 
the  better  of  the  stupor  that  had  come  over  me,  and  to  collect 
my  senses  so  as  to  see  what  was  to  be  done,  when  I  felt  some- 

5  body  grasp  my  arm.    It  was  my  elder  brother,  and  my  heart 
leaped  for  joy,  for  I  had  made  sure  that  he  was  overboard  — 
but  the  next  moment  all  ibis  joy  was  turned  into  horror  —  for 
he  put  his  mouth  close  to  my  ear,  and  screamed  out  the  word 
*  Moskoe-strom  ! ' 

10  "  No  one  will  ever  know  what  my  feelings  were  at  that 
moment.  I  shook  from  head  to  foot  as  if  I  had  had  the  most 
violent  fit  of  the  ague.  I  knew  what  he  meant  by  that  one 
word  well  enough  —  I  knew  what  he  wished  to  make  me 
understand.  With  the  wind  that  now  drove  us  on,  we  were 

15  bound  for  the  whirl  of  the  Strom,  and  nothing  could  save  us  ! 

"You   perceive   that    in   crossing    the    Strom   channel,  we 

always  went   a  long  way  up  above  the   whirl,  even   in   the 

calmest  weather,  and  then  had  to  wait  and  watch  carefully  for 

the  slack  —  but  now  we  were  driving  right  upon  the  pool  itself, 

20  and  in  such  a  hurricane  as  this  !  «  To  be  sure,'  I  thought,  'we 
shall  get  there  just  about  the  slack  —  there  is  some  little  hope 
in  that  —  but  in  the  next  moment  I  cursed  myself  for  being 
so  great  a  fool  as  to  dream  of  hope  at  all.  I  knew  very  well 
that  we  were  doomed,  had  we  been  ten  times  a  ninety-gun 

25  ship. 

"  By  this  time  the  first  fury  of  the  tempest  had  spent  itself, 
or  perhaps  we  did  not  feel  it  so  much  as  we  scudded  before 
it ;  but  at  all  events  the  seas,  which  at  first  had  been  kept 
down  by  the  wind,  and  lay  flat  and  frothing,  now  got  up  into 

30  absolute  mountains.  A  singular  change,  too,  had  come  over 
the  heavens.  Around  in  every  direction  it  was  still  as  black  as 
pitch,  but  nearly  overhead  there  burst  out,  all  at  once,  a  cir 
cular  rift  of  clear  sky  —  as  clear  as  I  ever  saw  —  and  of  a  deep 
bright  blue  —  and  through  it  there  blazed  forth  the  full  moon 

35  with  a  lustre  that  I  never  before  knew  her  to  wear.    She  lit 


A  DESCENT    INTO   THE    MAELSTROM          105 

up  everything  about  us  with  the  greatest  distinctness  —  but, 
oh  God,  what  a  scene  it  was  to  light  up  ! 

"  I  now  made  one  or  two  attempts  to  speak  to  my  brother 
—  but,  in  some  manner  which  I  could  not  understand,  the  din 
had  so  increased  that  I  could  not  make  him  hear  a  single  5 
word,  although  I  screamed  at  the  top  of  my  voice  in  his  ear. 
Presently  he  shook  his  head,  looking  as  pale  as  death,  and  held 
up  one  of  his  fingers,  as  if  to  say  listen  ! 

"At  first  I  could  not  make  out  what  he  meant  —  but  soon 
a  hideous  thought  flashed  upon  me.  I  dragged  my  watch  from  10 
its  fob.  It  was  not  going.  I  glanced  at  its  face  by  the  moon 
light,  and  then  burst  into  tears  as  I  flung  it  far  away  into  the 
ocean.  //  had  run  down  at  seven  o1  clock  !  We  were  behind 
the  time  of  the  slack,  and  the  whirl  of  the  Strom  was  in  full 
fury  !  i  5 

"  When  a  boat  is  well  built,  properly  trimmed,  and  not  deep 
laden,  the  waves  in  a  strong  gale,  when  she  is  going  large,  seem 
always  to  slip  from  beneath  her  —  which  appears  very  strange 
to  a  landsman  —  and  this  is  what  is  called  riding,  in  sea  phrase. 

"  Well,  so  far  we  had  ridden  the  swells  very  cleverly ;  but  20 
presently  a  gigantic  sea  happened  to  take  us  right  under  the 
counter,  and  bore  us  with  it  as  it  rose  —  up  —  up  —  as  if  into 
the  sky.  I  would  not  have  believed  that  any  wave  could  rise 
so  high.  And  then  down  we  came  with  a  sweep,  a  slide,  and 
a  plunge,  that  made  me  feel  sick  and  dizzy,  as  if  I  was  falling  25 
from  some  lofty  mountain-top  in  a  dream.  But  while  we  were 
up  I  had  thrown  a  quick  glance  around  —  and  that  one  glance 
was  all  sufficient.  I  saw  our  exact  position  in  an  instant.  The 
Moskoe-strom  whirlpool  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dead 
ahead  —  but  no  more  like  the  every-day  Moskoe-strom,  than  30 
the  whirl  as  you  now  see  it  is  like  a  mill-race.  If  I  had  not 
known  where  we  were,  and  what  we  had  to  expect,  I  should 
not  have  recognized  the  place  at  all.  As  it  was,  I  involuntarily 
closed  my  eyes  in  horror.  The  lids  clenched  themselves 
together  as  if  in  a  spasm.  35 


106  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

"  It  could  not  have  been  more  than  two  minutes  afterwards 
until  we  suddenly  felt  the  waves  subside,  and  were  enveloped 
in  foam.  The  boat  made  a  sharp  half  turn  to  larboard,  and 
then  shot  off  in  its  new  direction  like  a  thunderbolt.  At  the 
5  same  moment  the  roaring  noise  of  the  water  was  completely 
drowned  in  a  kind  of  shrill  shriek  —  such  a  sound  as  you  might 
imagine  given  out  by  the  water-pipes  of  many  thousand  steam- 
vessels,  letting  off  their  steam  all  together.  We  were  now  in 
the  belt  of  surf  that  always  surrounds  the  whirl ;  and  I  thought, 

10  of  course,  that  another  moment  would  plunge  us  into  the  abyss 

—  down  which  we  could  only  see  indistinctly  on  account  of  the 

amazing  velocity  with  which  we  were  borne  along.    The  boat 

did  not  seem  to  sink  into  the  water  at  all,  but  to  skim  like  an 

air-bubble  upon  the  surface  of  the  surge.    Her  starboard  side 

15  was  next  the  whirl,  and  on  the  larboard  arose  the  world  of 
ocean  we  had  left.  It  stood  like  a  huge  writhing  wall  between 
us  and  the  horizon. 

"It  may  appear  strange,  but  now,  when  we  were  in  the 
very  jaws  of  the  gulf,  I  felt  more  composed  than  when  we  were 

20  only  approaching  it.  Having  made  up  my  mind  to  hope  no 
more,  I  got  rid  of  a  great  deal  of  that  terror  which  unmanned 
me  at  first.  I  suppose  it  was  despair  that  strung  my  nerves. 

"  It  may  look  like  boasting  —  but  what  I  tell  you  is  truth  — 
I  began  to  reflect  how  magnificent  a  thing  it  was  to  die  in  such 

25  a  manner,  and  how  foolish  it  was  in  me  to  think  of  so  paltry  a 
consideration  as  my  own  individual  life,  in  view  of  so  wonder 
ful  a  manifestation  of  God's  power.  I  do  believe  that  I  blushed 
with  shame  when  this  idea  crossed  my  mind.  After  a  little 
while  I  became  possessed  with  the  keenest  curiosity  about  the 

30  whirl  itself.  I  positively  felt  a  wish  to  explore  its  depths,  even 
at  the  sacrifice  I  was  going  to  make ;  and  my  principal  grief 
was  that  I  should  never  be  able  to  tell  my  old  companions 
on  shore  about  the  mysteries  I  should  see.  These,  no  doubt, 
were  singular  fancies  to  occupy  a  man's  mind  in  such  extrem- 

35  ity  —  and  I  have  often  thought,  since,  that  the  revolutions 


A  DESCENT    INTO   THE   MAELSTROM          107 

of  the  boat  around  the  pool  might  have  rendered  me  a  little 
light-headed. 

"  There  was  another  circumstance  which  tended  to  restore 
my  self-possession ;  and  this  was  the  cessation  of  the  wind, 
which  could  not  reach  us  in  our  present  situation  —  for,  as  5 
you  saw  yourself,  the  belt  of  surf  is  considerably  lower  than  the 
general  bed  of  the  ocean,  and  this  latter  now  towered  above  us, 
a  high,  black,  mountainous  ridge.  If  you  have  never  been  at  sea 
in  a  heavy  gale,  you  can  form  no  idea  of  the  confusion  of  mind 
occasioned  by  the  wind  and  spray  together.  They  blind,  deafen,  10 
and  strangle  you,  and  take  away  all  power  of  action  or  reflec 
tion.  But  we  were  now,  in  a  great  measure,  rid  of  these  annoy 
ances  —  just  as  death-condemned  felons  in  prison  are  allowed 
petty  indulgences,  forbidden  them  while  their  doom  is  yet 
uncertain.  15 

"  How  often  we  made  the  circuit  of  the  belt  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  We  careered  round  and  round  for  perhaps  an  hour, 
flying  rather  than  floating,  getting  gradually  more  and  more 
into  the  middle  of  the  surge,  and  then  nearer  and  nearer  to  its 
horrible  inner  edge.  All  this  time  I  had  never  let  go  of  the  ring-  20 
bolt.  My  brother  was  at  the  stern,  holding  on  to  a  small  empty 
water-cask  which  had  been  securely  lashed  under  the  coop  of 
the  counter,  and  was  the  only  thing  on  deck  that  had  not  been 
swept  overboard  when  the  gale  first  took  us.  As  we  approached 
the  brink  of  the  pit  he  let  go  his  hold  upon  this,  and  made  for  25 
the  ring,  from  which,  in  the  agony  of  his  terror,  he  endeavored 
to  force  my  hands,  as  it  was  not  large  enough  to  afford  us  both 
a  secure  grasp.  I  never  felt  deeper  grief  than  when  I  saw  him 
attempt  this  act  —  although  I  knew  he  was  a  madman  when 
he  did  it  —  a  raving  maniac  through  sheer  fright.  I  did  not  30 
care,  however,  to  contest  the  point  with  him.  I  knew  it  could 
make  no  difference  whether  either  of  us  held  on  at  all ;  so  I 
let  him  have  the  bolt,  and  went  astern  to  the  cask.  This  there 
was  no  great  difficulty  in  doing;  for  the  smack  flew  round 
steadily  enough,  and  upon  an  even  keel  —  only  swaying  to  35 


108  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

and  fro,  with  the  immense  sweeps  and  swelters  of  the  whirl. 
Scarcely  had  I  secured  myself  in  my  new  position,  when  we 
gave  a  wild  lurch  to  starboard,  and  rushed  headlong  into  the 
abyss.  I  muttered  a  hurried  prayer  to  God,  and  thought  all 
5  was  over. 

"  As  I  felt  the  sickening  sweep  of  the  descent,  I  had  instinc 
tively  tightened  my  hold  upon  the  barrel,  and  closed  my  eyes. 
For  some  seconds  I  dared  not  open  them  —  while  I  expected 
instant  destruction,  and  wondered  that  I  was  not  already  in 

10  my  death-struggles  with  the  water.  But  moment  after  moment 
elapsed.  I  still  lived.  The  sense  of  falling  had  ceased ;  and 
the  motion  of  the  vessel  seemed  much  as  it  had  been  before, 
while  in  the  belt  of  foam,  with  the  exception  that  she  now  lay 
more  along.  I  took  courage  and  looked  once  again  upon  the 

15  scene. 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  the  sensations  of  awe,  horror,  and 
admiration  with  which  I  gazed  about  me.  The  boat  appeared 
to  be  hanging,  as  if  by  magic,  midway  down,  upon  the  interior 
surface  of  a  funnel  vast  in  circumference,  prodigious  in  depth, 

20  and  whose  perfectly  smooth  sides  might  have  been  mistaken 
for  ebony,  but  for  the  bewildering  rapidity  with  which  they 
spun  around,  and  for  the  gleaming  and  ghastly  radiance  they 
shot  forth,  as  the  rays  of  the  full  moon,  from  that  circular  rift 
amid  the  clouds,  which  I  have  already  described,  streamed  in 

25  a  flood  of  golden  glory  along  the  black  walls,  and  far  away 
down  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  abyss. 

"  At  first  I  was  too  much  confused  to  observe  anything 
accurately.  The  general  burst  of  terrific  grandeur  was  all  that 
I  beheld.  When  I  recovered  myself  a  little,  however,  my  gaze 

30  fell  instinctively  downward.  In  this  direction  I  was  able  to 
obtain  an  unobstructed  view,  from  the  manner  in  which  the 
smack  hung  on  the  inclined  surface  of  the  pool.  She  was  quite 
upon  an  even  keel  —  that  is  to  say,  her  deck  lay  in  a  plane 
parallel  with  that  of  the  water  —  but  this  latter  sloped  at  an 

35  angle  of  more  than  forty-five  degrees,  so  that  we  seemed  to  be 


A  DESCENT    INTO   THE   MAELSTROM          109 

lying  upon  our  beam-ends.  I  could  not  help  observing,  never 
theless,  that  I  had  scarcely  more  difficulty  in  maintaining  my 
hold  and  footing  in  this  situation,  than  if  we  had  been  upon  a 
dead  level;  and  this,  I  suppose,  was  owing  to  the  speed  at 
which  we  revolved.  5 

"  The  rays  of  the  moon  seemed  to  search  the  very  bottom 
of  the  profound  gulf ;  but  still  I  could  make  out  nothing  dis 
tinctly,  on  account  of  a  thick  mist  in  which  everything  there 
was  enveloped,  and  over  which  there  hung  a  magnificent  rain 
bow,  like  that  narrow  and  tottering  bridge  which  Mussulmans  10 
say  is  the  only  pathway  between  Time  and  Eternity.  This 
mist,  or  spray,  was  no  doubt  occasioned  by  the  clashing  of  the 
great  walls  of  the  funnel,  as  they  all  met  together  at  the 
bottom  —  but  the  yell  that  went  up  to  the  heavens  from  out 
of  that  mist,  I  dare  not  attempt  to  describe.  15 

"  Our  first  slide  into  the  abyss  itself,  from  the  belt  of  foam 
above,  had  carried  us  to  a  great  distance  down  the  slope ;  but 
our  farther  descent  was  by  no  means  proportionate.  Round 
and  round  we  swept  —  not  with  any  uniform  movement  but 
in  dizzying  swings  and  jerks,  that  sent  us  sometimes  only  a  20 
few  hundred  yards  —  sometimes  nearly  the  complete  circuit  of 
the  whirl.  Our  progress  downward,  at  each  revolution,  was 
slow,  but  very  perceptible. 

"  Looking  about  me  upon  the  wide  waste  of  liquid  ebony  on 
which  we  were  thus  borne,  I  perceived  that  our  boat  was  not  25 
the  only  object  in  the  embrace  of  the  whirl.  Both  above  and 
below  us  were  visible  fragments  of  vessels,  large  masses  of 
building  timber  and  trunks  of  trees,  with  many  smaller  articles, 
such  as  pieces  of  house  furniture,  broken  boxes,  barrels,  and 
staves.  I  have  already  described  the  unnatural  curiosity  which  30 
had  taken  the  place  of  my  original  terrors.  It  appeared  to 
grow  upon  me  as  I  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  my  dreadful 
doom.  I  now  began  to  watch,  with  a  strange  interest,  the 
numerous  things  that  floated  in  our  company.  I  must  have 
been  delirious  —  for  I  even  sought  amusement  in  speculating  35 


IIO  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

upon  the  relative  velocities  of  their  several  descents  toward  the 
foam  below.  *  This  fir  tree,'  I  found  myself  at  one  time  saying, 
1  will  certainly  be  the  next  thing  that  takes  the  awful  plunge 
and  disappears,'  —  and  then  I  was  disappointed  to  find  that 
5  the  wreck  of  a  Dutch  merchant  ship  overtook  it  and  went  down 
before.  At  length,  after  making  several  guesses  of  this  nature, 
and  being  deceived  in  all — this  fact  —  the  fact  of  my  invariable 
miscalculation,  set  me  upon  a  train  of  reflection  that  made  my 
limbs  again  tremble,  and  my  heart  beat  heavily  once  more. 

10  "  It  was  not  a  new  terror  that  thus  affected  me,  but  the 
dawn  of  a  more  exciting  hope.  This  hope  arose  partly  from 
memory,  and  partly  from  present  observation.  I  called  to 
mind  the  great  variety  of  buoyant  matter  that  strewed  the 
coast  of  Lofoden,  having  been  absorbed  and  then  thrown  forth 

15  by  the  Moskoe-strom.  By  far  the  greater  number  of  the  arti 
cles  were  shattered  in  the  most  extraordinary  way  —  so  chafed 
and  roughened  as  to  have  the  appearance  of  being  stuck  full 
of  splinters  —  but  then  I  distinctly  recollected  that  there  were 
some  of  them  which  were  not  disfigured  at  all.  Now  I  could 

20  not  account  for  this  difference  except  by  supposing  that  the 
roughened  fragments  were  the  only  ones  which  had  been  com 
pletely  absorbed —  that  the  others  had  entered  the  whirl  at  so 
late  a  period  of  the  tide,  or,  from  some  reason,  had  descended 
so  slowly  after  entering,  that  they  did  not  reach  the  bottom 

25  before  the  turn  of  the  flood  came,  or.  of  the  ebb,  as  the  case 
might  be.  I  conceived  it  possible,  in  either  instance,  that 
they  might  thus  be  whirled  up  again  to  the  level  of  the  ocean, 
without  undergoing  the  fate  of  those  which  had  been  drawn 
in  more  early  or  absorbed  more  rapidly.  I  made,  also,  three 

30  important  observations.  The  first  was,  that  as  a  general  rule, 
the  larger  the  bodies  were,  the  more  rapid  their  descent ;  the 
second,  that,  between  two  masses  of  equal  extent,  the  one 
spherical,  and  the  other  of  any  other  shape,  the  superiority  in 
speed  of  descent  was  with  the  sphere  ;  the  third,  that,  between 

35  two  masses  of  equal  size,  the  one  cylindrical,  and  the  other  of 


A  DESCENT    INTO   THE   MAELSTROM          III 

any  other  shape,  the  cylinder  was  absorbed  the  more  slowly. 
Since  my  escape,  I  have  had  several  conversations  on  this  sub 
ject  with  an  old  schoolmaster  of  the  district ;  and  it  was  from 
him  that  I  learned  the  use  of  the  words  'cylinder'  and  'sphere.' 
He  explained  to  me — although  I  have  forgotten  the  explanation  5 
—  how  what  I  observed  was,  in  fact,  the  natural  consequence 
of  the  forms  of  the  floating  fragments,  and  showed  me  how  it 
happened  that  a  cylinder,  swimming  in  a  vortex,  offered  more 
resistance  to  its  suction,  and  was  drawn  in  with  greater  diffi 
culty,  than  an  equally  bulky  body,  of  any  form  whatever.1  I0 

"  There  was  one  startling  circumstance  which  went  a  great 
way  in  enforcing  these  observations,  and  rendering  me  anxious 
to  turn  them  to  account,  and  this  was  that,  at  every  revolution, 
we  passed  something  like  a  barrel,  or  else  the  yard  or  the  mast 
of  a  vessel,  while  many  of  these  things,  which  had  been  on  our  1S 
level  when  I  first  opened  my  eyes  upon  the  wonders  of  the 
whirlpool,  were  now  high  up  above  us,  and  seemed  to  have 
moved  but  little  from  their  original  station. 

"  I  no  longer  hesitated  what  to  do.    I  resolved  to  lash  my 
self  securely  to  the  water  cask  upon  which  I  now  held,  to  cut  20 
it  loose  from  the  counter,  and  to  throw  myself  with  it  into  the 
water.    I  attracted  my  brother's  attention  by  signs,  pointed  to 
the  floating  barrels  that  came  near  us,  and  did  everything  in 
my  power  to  make  him  understand  what  I  was  about  to  do. 
I  thought  at  length  that  he  comprehended  my  design  —  but,  25 
whether  this  was  the  case  or  not,  he  shook  his  head  despair 
ingly,  and  refused  to  move  from  his  station  by  the  ring-bolt. 
It  was  impossible  to  reach  him  ;  the  emergency  admitted  of 
no  delay ;  and  so,  with  a  bitter  struggle,  I  resigned  him  to  his 
fate,  fastened  myself  to  the  cask  by  means  of  the  lashings  30 
which  secured  it  to  the  counter,  and  precipitated  myself  with 
it  into  the  sea,  without  another  moment's  hesitation. 

"  The  result  was  precisely  what  I  had  hoped  it  might  be. 
As  it  is  myself  who  now  tell  you  this  tale  —  as  you  see  that  I 
1  See  Archimedes,  De  Us  Qua  in  Humido  Vehuntur,  lib  ii. 


112  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

did  escape  —  and  as  you  are  already  in  possession  of  the  mode 
in  which  this  escape  was  effected,  and  must  therefore  anticipate 
all  that  I  have  farther  to  say  —  I  will  bring  my  story  quickly 
to  conclusion.  It  might  have  been  an  hour,  or  thereabout, 
5  after  my  quitting  the  smack,  when,  having  descended  to  a 
vast  distance  beneath  me,  it  made  three  or  four  wild  gyrations 
in  rapid  succession,  and,  bearing  my  loved  brother  with  it, 
plunged  headlong,  at  once  and  forever,  into  the  chaos  of  foam 
below.  The  barrel  to  which  I  was  attached  sunk  very  little 

10  farther  than  half  the  distance  between  the  bottom  of  the  gulf 
and  the  spot  at  which  I  leaped  overboard,  before  a  great  change 
took  place  in  the  character  of  the  whirlpool.  The  slope  of  the 
sides  of  the  vast  funnel  became  momently  less  and  less  steep. 
The  gyrations  of  the  whirl  grew,  gradually,  less  and  less  violent. 

15  By  degrees,  the  froth  and  the  rainbow  disappeared,  and  the 
bottom  of  the  gulf  seemed  slowly  to  uprise.  The  sky  was  clear, 
the  winds  had  gone  down,  and  the  full  moon  was  setting 
radiantly  in  the  west,  when  I  found  myself  on  the  surface  of 
the  ocean,  in  full  view  of  the  shores  of  Lofoden,  and  above  the 

20  spot  where  the  pool  of  the  Moskoe-strom  had  been.  It  was  the 
hour  of  the  slack,  but  the  sea  still  heaved  in  mountainous 
waves  from  the  effects  of  the  hurricane.  I  was  borne  violently 
into  the  channel  of  the  Strom,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  hurried 
down  the  coast  into  the  '  grounds '  of  the  fishermen.  A  boat 

25  picked  me  up  —  exhausted  from  fatigue  —  and  (now  that  the 
danger  was  removed)  speechless  from  the  memory  of  its  horror. 
Those  who  drew  me  on  board  were  my  old  mates  and  daily 
companions,  but  they  knew  me  no  more  than  they  would  have 
known  a  traveller  from  the  spirit-land.  My  hair,  which  had 

30  been  raven-black  the  day  before,  was  as  white  as  you  see  it  now. 
They  say  too  that  the  whole  expression  of  my  countenance  had 
changed.  I  told  them  my  story  —  they  did  not  believe  it.  I 
now  tell  it  to  you  —  and  I  can  scarcely  expect  you  to  put  more 
faith  in  it  than  did  the  merry  fishermen  of  Lofoden." 


THE  MASQUE  OF  THE  RED  DEATH 
(NORTHERN  ITALY) 

The  "  Red  Death  "  had  long  devastated  the  country.  No 
pestilence  had  ever  been  so  fatal,  or  so  hideous.  Blood  was  its 
avatar  and  its  seal  —  the  redness  and  the  horror  of  blood. 
There  were  sharp  pains,  and  sudden  dizziness,  and  then  pro 
fuse  bleeding  at  the  pores,  with  dissolution.  The  scarlet  stains  5 
upon  the  body,  and  especially  upon  the  face,  of  the  victim 
were  the  pest  ban  wrhich  shut  him  out  from  the  aid  and  from 
the  sympathy  of  his  fellow-men.  And  the  whole  seizure,  prog 
ress,  and  termination  of  the  disease  were  the  incidents  of  half 
an  hour.  10 

But  the  Prince  Prospero  was  happy  and  dauntless  and  saga 
cious.  When  his  dominions  were  half  depopulated,  he  sum 
moned  to  his  presence  a  thousand  hale  and  light-hearted  friends 
from  among  the  knights  and  dames  of  his  court,  and  with  these 
retired  to  the  deep  seclusion  of  one  of  his  castellated  abbeys.  15 
This  was  an  extensive  and  magnificent  structure,  the  creation 
of  the  Prince's  own  eccentric  yet  august  taste.  A  strong  and 
lofty  wall  girdled  it  in.  This  wall  had  gates  of  iron.  The 
courtiers,  having  entered,  brought  furnaces  and  massy  ham 
mers,  and  welded  the  bolts.  They  resolved  to  leave  means  20 
neither  of  ingress  or  egress  to  the  sudden  impulses  of  despair 
or  of  frenzy  from  within.  The  abbey  was  amply  provisioned. 
With  such  precautions  the  courtiers  might  bid  defiance  to 
contagion.  The  external  world  could  take  care  of  itself.  In 
the  meantime  it  was  folly  to  grieve,  or  to  think.  The  Prince  had  25 
provided  all  the  appliances  of  pleasure.  There  were  buffoons, 
there  were  improvisator!,  there  were  ballet-dancers,  there  were 
musicians,  there  was  Beauty,  there  was  wine.  All  these  and 
security  were  within.  Without  was  the  "  Red  Death." 

"3 


114  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

It  was  toward  the  close  of  the  fifth  or  sixth  month  of  his 
seclusion,  and  while  the  pestilence  raged  most  furiously  abroad, 
that  the  Prince  Prospero  entertained  his  thousand  friends  at  a 
masked  ball  of  the  most  unusual  magnificence. 
5  It  was  a  voluptuous  scene,  that  masquerade.  But  first  let 
me  tell  of  the  rooms  in  which  it  was  held.  There  were  seven 
—  an  imperial  suite.  In  many  palaces,  however,  such  suites 
form  a  long  and  straight  vista,  while  the  folding-doors  slide 
back  nearly  to  the  walls  on  either  hand,  so  that  the  view  of 

10  the  whole  extent  is  scarcely  impeded.  Here  the  case  was  very 
different,  as  might  have  been  expected  from  the  Prince's  love 
of  the  bizarre.  The  apartments  were  so  irregularly  disposed 
that  the  vision  embraced  but  little  more  than  one  at  a  time. 
There  was  a  sharp  turn  at  every  twenty  or  thirty  yards,  and 

15  at  each  turn  a  novel  effect.  To  the  right  and  left,  in  the 
middle  of  each  wall,  a  tall  and  narrow  Gothic  window  looked 
out  upon  a  closed  corridor  which  pursued  the  windings  of  the 
suite.  These  windows  were  of  stained  glass,  whose  color  varied 
in  accordance  with  the  prevailing  hue  of  the  decorations  of  the 

20  chamber  into  which  it  opened.  That  at  the  eastern  extremity 
was  hung,  for  example,  in  blue  —  and  vividly  blue  were  its 
windows.  The  second  chamber'  was  purple  in  its  ornaments 
and  tapestries,  and  here  the  panes  were  purple.  The  third 
was  green  throughout,  and  so  were  the  casements.  The  fourth 

25  was  furnished  and  lighted  with  orange,  the  fifth  with  white, 
the  sixth  with  violet.  The  seventh  apartment  was  closely 
shrouded  in  black  velvet  tapestries  that  hung  all  over  the  ceil 
ing  and  down  the  walls,  falling  in  heavy  folds  upon  a  carpet  of 
the  same  material  and  hue.  But,  in  this  chamber  only,  the 

30  color  of  the  windows  failed  to  correspond  with  the  decorations. 
The  panes  here  were  scarlet  —  a  deep  blood-color.  Now  in  no 
one  of  the  seven  apartments  was  there  any  lamp  or  candela 
brum,  amid  the  profusion  of  golden  ornaments  that  lay  scattered 
to  and  fro  or  depended  from  the  roof.  There  was  no  light  of 

35  any  kind  emanating  from  lamp  or  candle  within  the  suite  of 


THE  MASQUE  OF  THE  RED  DEATH    115 

chambers.  But  in  the  corridors  that  followed  the  suite  there 
stood,  opposite  to  each  window,  a  heavy  tripod,  bearing  a 
brazier  of  fire,  that  projected  its  rays  through  the  tinted  glass 
and  so  glaringly  illumined  the  room.  And  thus  were  produced 
a  multitude  of  gaudy  and  fantastic  appearances.  But  in  the  5 
western  or  black  chamber  the  effect  of  the  firelight  that 
streamed  upon  the  dark  hangings  through  the  blood-tinted 
panes  was  ghastly  in  the  extreme,  and  produced  so  wild  a  look 
upon  the  countenances  of  those  who  entered  that  there  were 
few  of  the  company  bold  enough  to  set  foot  within  its  precincts  10 
at  all 

It  was  in  this  apartment,  also,  that  there  stood  against  the 
western  wall  a  gigantic  clock  of  ebony.  Its  pendulum  swung 
to  and  fro  with  a  dull,  heavy,  monotonous  clang ;  and  when 
the  minute-hand  made  the  circuit  of  the  face,  and  the  hour  15 
was  to  be  stricken,  there  came  from  the  brazen  lungs  of  the 
clock  a  sound  which  was  clear  and  loud  and  deep  and  exceed 
ingly  musical,  but  of  so  peculiar  a  note  and  emphasis  that,  at 
each  lapse  of  an  hour,  the  musicians  of  the  orchestra  were  con 
strained  to  pause,  momentarily,  in  their  performance,  to  20 
hearken  to  the  sound ;  and  thus  the  waltzers  perforce  ceased 
their  evolutions ;  and  there  was  a  brief  disconcert  of  the 
whole  gay  company ;  and,  while  the  chimes  of  the  clock  yet 
rang,  it  was  observed  that  the  giddiest  grew  pale,  and  the 
more  aged  and  sedate  passed  their  hands  over  their  brows  as  25 
if  in  confused  re  very  or  meditation.  But  when  the  echoes  had 
fully  ceased,  a  light  laughter  at  once  pervaded  the  assembly ; 
the  musicians  looked  at  each  other  and  smiled  as  if  at  their 
own  nervousness  and  folly,  and  made  whispering  vows,  each  to 
the  other,  that  the  next  chiming  of  the  clock  should  produce  30 
in  them  no  similar  emotion  ;  and  then,  after  the  lapse  of  sixty 
minutes  (which  embrace  three  thousand  and  six  hundred 
seconds  of  the  Time  that  flies)  there  came  yet  another  chim 
ing  of  the  clock,  and  then  were  the  same  disconcert  and 
tremulousness  and  meditation  as  before.  35 


Il6  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

But,  in  spite  of  these  things,  it  was  a  gay  and  magnificent 
revel.  The  tastes  of  the  Prince  were  peculiar.  He  had  a  fine 
eye  for  colors  and  effects.  He  disregarded  the  decora  of  mere 
fashion.  His  plans  were  bold  and  fiery,  and  his  conceptions 
5  glowed  with  barbaric  lustre.  There  are  some  who  would  have 
thought  him  mad.  His  followers  felt  that  he  was  not.  It  was 
necessary  to  hear  and  see  and  touch  him  to  be  sure  that  he 
was  not. 

He  had  directed,  in  great  part,  the  movable  embellishments 

TO  of  the  seven  chambers,  upon  occasion  of  this  great  fete ;  and 

.  it  was  his  own  guiding  taste  which  had  given  character  to  the 

masqueraders.    Be  sure  they  were  grotesque.    There  were  much 

glare  and  glitter  and  piquancy  and  phantasm  —  much  of  what 

has  been  since  seen  in  Hernani.    There  were  arabesque  figures 

1 5  with  unsuited  limbs  and  appointments.  There  were  delirious 
fancies  such  as  the  madman  fashions.  There  was  much  of  the 
beautiful,  much  of  the  wanton,  much  of  the  bizarre,  something 
of  the  terrible,  and  not  a  little  of  that  which  might  have  excited 
disgust.  To  and  fro  in  the  seven  chambers  there  stalked,  in 

20  fact,  a  multitude  of  dreams.  And  these  —  the  dreams  — 
writhed  in  and  about,  taking  hue  from  the  rooms,  and  causing 
the  wild  music  of  the  orchestra  to  seem  as  the  echo  of  their 
steps.  And,  anon,  there  strikes  the  ebony  clock  which  stands 
in  the  hall  of  the  velvet.  And  then,  for  a  moment,  all  is  still, 

25  and  all  is  silent  save  the  voice  of  the  clock.  The  dreams  are 
stiff-frozen  as  they  stand.  But  the  echoes  of  the  chime  die 
away  —  they  have  endured  but  an  instant  —  and  a  light,  half- 
subdued  laughter  floats  after  them  as  they  depart.  And  now 
again  the  music  swells,  and  the  dreams  live,  and  writhe  to  and 

30  fro  more  merrily  than  ever,  taking  hue  from  the  many  tinted 
windows  through  which  stream  the  rays  from  the  tripods.  But 
to  the  chamber  which  lies  most  westwardly  of  the  seven,  there 
are  now  none  of  the  maskers  who  venture ;  for  the  night  is 
waning  away,  and  there  flows  a  ruddier  light  through  the 

35  blood-colored  panes  ;  and  the  blackness  of  the  sable  drapery 


THE  MASQUE  OF  THE  RED  DEATH    117 

appalls;  and  to  him  whose  foot  falls  upon  the  sable  carpet, 
there  comes  from  the  near  clock  of  ebony  a  muffled  peal 
more  solemnly  emphatic  than  any  which  reaches  their  ears  who 
indulge  in  the  more  remote  gayeties  of  the  other  apartments. 

But  these  other  apartments  were  densely  crowded,  and  in    5 
them  beat  feverishly  the  heart  of  life.    And  the  revel  went 
whirlingly  on,  until  at  length  there  commenced  the  sounding 
of  midnight  upon  the  clock.    And  then  the  music  ceased,  as  I 
have  told  ;  and  the  evolutions  of  the  waltzers  were  quieted;  and 
there  was  an  uneasy  cessation  of  all  things  as  before.    But  now  10 
there  were  twelve  strokes  to  be  sounded  by  the  bell  of  the 
clock  ;  and  thus  it  happened,  perhaps,  that  more  of  thought 
crept,  with  more  of  time,  into  the  meditations  of  the  thought 
ful  among  those  who  revelled.    And  thus  too  it  happened, 
perhaps,  that  before  the  last  echoes  of  the  last  chime  had  utterly  15 
sunk  into  silence,  there  were  many  individuals  in  the  crowd  who 
had  found  leisure  to  become  aware  of  the  presence  of  a  masked 
figure  which  had  arrested  the  attention  of  no  single  individual 
before.    And  the   rumor  of  this  new  presence  having  spread 
itself  whisperingly  around,  there   arose    at  length   from    the  20 
whole  company  a  buzz,  or  murmur,  expressive  of  disapproba 
tion  and  surprise  —  then,   finally,  of  terror,  of  horror,  and  of 
disgust. 

In  an  assembly  of  phantasms  such  as  I  have  painted,  it  may 
well  be  supposed  that  no  ordinary  appearance  could  have  25 
excited  such  sensation.  In  truth  the  masquerade  license  of  the 
night  was  nearly  unlimited ;  but  the  figure  in  question  had  out- 
Heroded  Herod,  and  gone  beyond  the  bounds  of  even  the 
Prince's  indefinite  decorum.  There  are  chords  in  the  hearts 
of  the  most  reckless  which  cannot  be  touched  without  emotion.  30 
Even  with  the  utterly  lost,  to  whom  life  and  death  are  equally 
jests,  there  are  matters  of  which  no  jest  can  be  made.  The 
whole  company,  indeed,  seemed  now  deeply  to  feel  that  in  the 
costume  and  bearing  of  the  stranger  neither  wit  nor  propriety 
existed.  The  figure  was  tall  and  gaunt,  and  shrouded  from  35 


Il8  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

head  to  foot  in  the  habiliments  of  the  grave.  The  mask  which 
concealed  the  visage  was  made  so  nearly  to  resemble  the  coun 
tenance  of  a  stiffened  corpse  that  the  closest  scrutiny  must  have 
had  difficulty  in  detecting  the  cheat.  And  yet  all  this  might 
5  have  been  endured,  if  not  approved,  by  the  mad  revellers 
around.  But  the  mummer  had  gone  so  far  as  to  assume  the 
type  of  the  Red  Death.  His  vesture  was  dabbled  in  blood — 
and  his  broad  brow,  with  all  the  features  of  the  face,  was 
besprinkled  with  the  scarlet  horror. 

10  When  the  eyes  of  Prince  Prospero  fell  upon  this  spectral 
image  (which  with  a  slow  and  solemn  movement,  as  if  more 
fully  to  sustain  its  role,  stalked  to  and  fro  among  the  waltzers) 
he  was  seen  to  be  convulsed,  in  the  first  moment,  with  a  strong 
shudder  either  of  terror  or  distaste ;  but,  in  the  next,  his  brow 

15  reddened  with  rage. 

"Who  dares?  "  he  demanded  hoarsely  of  the  courtiers  who 
stood  near  him  —  "  who  dares  insult  us  with  this  blasphemous 
mockery?  Seize  him  and  unmask  him  —  that  we  may  know 
whom  we  have  to  hang  at  sunrise,  from  the  battlements  !  " 

20  It  was  in  the  eastern  or  blue  chamber  in  which  stood  the 
Prince  Prospero  as  he  uttered  these  words.  They  rang  through 
out  the  seven  rooms  loudly  and  clearly  —  for  the  Prince  was  a 
bold  and  robust  man,  and  the  music  had  become  hushed  at  the 
waving  of  his  hand. 

25  It  was  in  the  blue  room  where  stood  the  Prince,  with  a  group 
of  pale  courtiers  by  his  side.  At  first,  as  he  spoke,  there  was  a 
slight  rushing  movement  of  this  group  in  the  direction  of  the 
intruder,  who  at  the  moment  was  also  near  at  hand,  and  now, 
with  deliberate  and  stately  step,  made  closer  approach  to  the 

30  speaker.  But  from  a  certain  nameless  awe  with  which  the  mad 
assumptions  of  the  mummer  had  inspired  the  whole  party,  there 
were  found  none  who  put  forth  hand  to  seize  him ;  so  that, 
unimpeded,  he  passed  within  a  yard  of  the  Prince's  person ; 
and,  while  the  vast  assembly,  as  if  with  one  impulse,  shrank 

35  from  the  centres  of  the  rooms  to  the  walls,  he  made  his  way 


THE   MASQUE   OF  THE   RED   DEATH          119 

uninterruptedly,  but  with  the  same  solemn  and  measured  step 
which  had  distinguished  him  from  the  first,  through  the  blue 
chamber  to  the  purple  —  through  the  purple  to  the  green  — 
through  the  green  to  the  orange  —  through  this  again  to  the 
white  —  and  even  thence  to  the  violet,  ere  a  decided  movement  5 
had  been  made  to  arrest  him.  It  was  then,  however,  that  the 
Prince  Prospero,  maddening  with  rage  and  the  shame  of  his 
own  momentary  cowardice,  rushed  hurriedly  through  the  six 
chambers,  while  none  followed  him  on  account  of  a  deadly 
terror  that  had  seized  upon  all.  He  bore  aloft  a  drawn  dagger,  10 
and  had  approached,  in  rapid  impetuosity,  to  within  three  or 
four  feet  of  the  retreating  figure,  when  the  latter,  having 
attained  the  extremity  of  the  velvet  apartment,  turned  sud 
denly  and  confronted  his  pursuer.  There  was  a  sharp  cry  — 
and  the  dagger  dropped  gleaming  upon  the  sable  carpet,  upon  15 
which,  instantly  afterwards,  fell  prostrate  in  death  the  Prince 
Prospero.  Then,  summoning  the  wild  courage  of  despair,  a 
throng  of  the  revellers  at  once  threw  themselves  into  the  black 
apartment,  and,  seizing  the  mummer,  whose  tall  figure  stood 
erect  and  motionless  within  the  shadow  of  the  ebony  clock,  20 
gasped  in  unutterable  horror  at  finding  the  grave  cerements  and 
corpse-like  mask,  which  they  handled  with  so  violent  a  rude 
ness,  untenanted  by  any  tangible  form. 

And  now  was  acknowledged  the  presence  of  the  Red  Death. 
He  had  come  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  And  one  by  one  25 
dropped  the  revellers  in  the  blood-bedewed  halls  of  their  revel, 
and  died  each  in  the  despairing  posture  of  his  fall.  And  the 
life  of  the  ebony  clock  went  out  with  that  of  the  last  of  the 
gay.  And  the  flames  of  the  tripods  expired.  And  Darkness  and 
Decay  and  the  Red  Death  held  illimitable  dominion  over  all.  30 


THE  GOLD-BUG 

What  ho  !  what  ho  !  this  fellow  is  dancing  mad  1 
He  hath  been  bitten  by  the  Tarantula. 

All  in  the  Wrong 

Many  years  ago,  I  contracted  an  intimacy  with  a  Mr. 
William  Legrand.  He  was  of  an  ancient  Huguenot  family, 
and  had  once  been  wealthy ;  but  a  series  of  misfortunes  had 
reduced  him  to  want.  To  avoid  the  mortification  consequent 
5  upon  his  disasters,  he  left  New  Orleans,  the  city  of  his  fore 
fathers,  and  took  up  his  residence  at  Sullivan's  Island,  near 

.^Charleston,  South  Carolina. 

This  island  is  a  very  singular  one.    It  consists  of  little  else 
than  the  sea  sand,  and  is  about  three  miles  long.    Its  breadth 

10  at  no  point  exceeds  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  It  is  separated  from 
the  main-land  by  a  scarcely  perceptible  creek,  oozing  its  way 
through  a  wilderness  of  reeds  and  slime,  a  favorite  resort  of 
the  marsh-hen.  The  vegetation,  as  might  be  supposed,  is 
scant,  or  at  least  dwarfish.  No  trees  of  any  magnitude  are  to 

15  be  seen.  Near  the  western  extremity,  where  Fort  Moultrie 
stands,  and  where  are  some  miserable  frame  buildings,  ten 
anted  during  summer  by  the  fugitives  from  Charleston  dust 
and  fever,  may  be  found,  indeed,  the  bristly  palmetto  ;  but 
the  whole  island,  with  the  exception  of  this  western  point,  and 

20  a  line  of  hard  white  beach  on  the  seacoast,  is  covered  with  a 
dense  undergrowth  of  the  sweet  myrtle,  so  much  prized  by  the 
horticulturists  of  England.  The  shrub  here  often  attains  the 
height  of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  and  forms  an  almost  impene 
trable  coppice,  burdening  the  air  with  its  fragrance. 

25  In  the  utmost  recesses  of  this  coppice,  not  far  from  the 
eastern  or  more  remote  end  of  the  island,  Legrand  had  built 


THE   GOLD-BUG  121 

himself  a  small  hut,  which  he  occupied  when  I  first,  by  mere 
accident,  made  his  acquaintance.  This  soon  ripened  into 
friendship  —  for  there  was  much  in  the  recluse  to  excite 
interest  and  esteem.  I  found  him  well  educated,  with  unusual 
powers  of  mind,  but  infected  with  misanthropy,  and  subfect  5 
to  perverse  moods  of  alternate  enthusiasm  and  melancholy. 
He  had  with  him  many  books,  but  rarely  employed  them. 
His  chief  amusements  were  gunning  and  fishing,  or  sauntering 
along  the  beach  and  through  the  myrtles  in  quest  of  shells  or 
entomological  specimens  ;  —  his  collection  of  the  latter  might  10 
have  been  envied  by  a  Swammerdamm.  In  these  excursions 
he  was  usually  accompanied  by  an  old  negro,  called  Jupiter, 
who  had  been  manumitted  before  the  reverses  of  the  family, 
but  who  could  be  induced,  neither  by  threats  nor  by  promises, 
to  abandon  what  he  considered  his  right  of  attendance  upon  15 
the  footsteps  of  his  young  "  Massa  Will."  It  is  not  improbable 
that  the  relatives  of  Legrand,  conceiving  him  to  be  somewhat 
unsettled  in  intellect,  had  contrived  to  instil  this  obstinacy 
into  Jupiter,  with  a  view  to  the  supervision  and  guardianship 
of  the  wanderer.  20 

The  winters  in  the  latitude  of  Sullivan's  Island  are  seldom 
very  severe,  and  in  the  fall  of  the  year  it  is  a  rare  event  indeed 
when  a  fire  is  considered  necessary.  About  the  middle  of 
October,  18 — ,  there  occurred,  however,  a  day  of  remarkable 
chilliness.  Just  before  sunset  I  scrambled  my  way  through  25 
the  evergreens  to  the  hut  of  my  friend,  whom  I  had  not 
visited  for  several  weeks  —  my  residence  being  at  that  time  in 
Charleston,  a  distance  of  nine  miles  from  the  island,  while  the 
facilities  of  passage  and  re-passage  were  very  far  behind  those  of 
the  present  day.  Upon  reaching  the  hut  I  rapped,  as  was  my  30 
custom,  and,  getting  no  reply,  sought  for  the  key  where  I  knew 
it  was  secreted,  unlocked  the  door  and  went  in.  A  fine  fire  was 
blazing  upon  the  hearth.  It  was  a  novelty,  and  by  no  means  an 
ungrateful  one.  I  threw  off  an  overcoat,  took  an  armchair  by 
the  crackling  logs,  and  awaited  patiently  the  arrival  of  my  hosts.  35 


122  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

Soon  after  dark  they  arrived,  and  gave  me  a  most  cordial 
welcome.  Jupiter,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  bustled  about  to 
prepare  some  marsh-hens  for  supper.  Legrand  was  in  one  of 
his  fits  —  how  else  shall  I  term  them  ?  —  of  enthusiasm.  He 
5  had  found  an  unknown  bivalve,  forming  a  new  genus,  and, 
more  than  this,  he  had  hunted  down  and  secured,  with  Jupi 
ter's  assistance,  a  scarabczus  which  he  believed  to  be  totally 
new,  but  in  respect  to  which  he  wished  to  have  my  opinion 
on  the  morrow. 

10  "And  why  not  to-night?  "  I  asked,  rubbing  my  hands  over 
the  blaze,  and  wishing  the  whole  tribe  of  scarabai  at  the 
devil. 

"  Ah,  if  I  had  only  known  you  were  here  ! "  said  Legrand, 
"  but  it 's  so  long  since  I  saw  you  ;  and  how  could  I  foresee 

15  that  you  would  pay  me  a  visit  this  very  night  of  all  others? 

As  I  was  coming  home  I  met  Lieutenant  G ,  from  the 

fort,  and,  very  foolishly,  I  lent  him  the  bug ;  so  it  will  be 
impossible  for  you  to  see  it  until  the  morning.  Stay  here  to 
night,  and  I  will  send  Jup  down  for  it  at  sunrise.  It  is  the 

20  loveliest  thing  in  creation  !  " 
"What?  — sunrise?" 

"  Nonsense  !  no  !  —  the  bug.  It  is  of  a  brilliant  gold  color 
-7- about  the  size  of  a  large  hickory-nut  —  with  two  jet  black 
spots  near  one  extremity  of  the  back,  and  another,  somewhat 

25  longer,  at  the  other.    The  antenna  are  —  " 

"  Dey  aint  no  tin  in  him,  Massa  Will,  I  keep  a  tellin  on 
you,"  here  interrupted  Jupiter ;  "  de  bug  is  a  goole-bug,  solid, 
ebery  bit  of  him,  inside  and  all,  sep  him  wing  —  neber  feel 
half  so  hebby  a  bug  in  my  life." 

30  "Well,  suppose  it  is,  Jup,"  replied  Legrand,  somewhat 
more  earnestly,  it  seemed  to  me,  than  the  case  demanded, 
"is  that  any  reason  for-  your  letting  the  birds  burn?  The 
color  "  —  here  he  turned  to  me  —  "  is  really  almost  enough 
to  warrant  Jupiter's  idea.  You  never  saw  a  more  brilliant 

35  metallic  lustre  than  the  scales  emit  —  but  of  this  you  cannot 


THE   GOLD-BUG  123 

judge  till  to-morrow.  In  the  meantime  I  can  give  you  some 
idea  of  the  shape."  Saying  this,  he  seated  himself  at  a  small 
table,  on  which  were  a  pen  and  ink,  but  no  paper.  He  looked 
for  some  in  a  drawer,  but  found  none. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  he  at  length,  "  this  will  answer;  "  and    5 
he  drew  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  scrap  of  what  I  took  to 
be  very  dirty  foolscap,  and  made  upon  it  a  rough  drawing 
with  the  pen.    While  he  did  this,  I  retained  my  seat  by  the 
fire,  for  I  was  still  chilly.    When  the  design  was  complete,  he 
handed  it  to  me  without  rising.    As  I  received  it,  a  low  growl  10 
was  heard,  succeeded  by  a  scratching  at  the  door.    Jupiter 
opened  it,  and  a  large  Newfoundland,  belonging  to  Legrand, 
rushed  in,  leaped  upon  my  shoulders,  and  loaded  me  with 
caresses ;  for  I  had  shown  him  much  attention  during  previous 
visits.    When  his  gambols  were  over,  I  looked  at  the  paper,  15 
and,  to  speak  the  truth,  found  myself  not  a  little  puzzled  at 
what  my  friend  had  depicted. 

"Well!"  I  said,  after  contemplating  it  for  some  minutes, 
"this  is  a  strange  scarabceus,  I  must  confess;  new  to  me: 
never  saw  anything  like  it  before  —  unless  it  was  a  skull,  or  a  20 
death's-head,  which  it  more  nearly  resembles  than  anything 
else  that  has  come  under  my  observation." 

"  A  death's-head  !  "   echoed  Legrand  —  "oh  —  yes  —  well, 
it  has  something  of  that  appearance  upon  paper,  no  doubt. 
The  two  upper  black  spots  look  like  eyes,  eh?  and  the  longer  25 
one  at  the  bottom  like  a  mouth  —  and  then  the  shape  of  the 
whole  is  oval." 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  I;  "but,  Legrand,  I  fear  you  are  no 
artist.  I  must  wait  until  I  see  the  beetle  itself,  if  I  am  to 
form  any  idea  of  its  personal  appearance."  30 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  a  little  nettled,  "  I  draw 
tolerably  —  should  do  it  at  least  —  have  had  good  masters, 
and  flatter  myself  that  I  am  not  quite  a  blockhead." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  joking  then,"  said  I ;  "  this 
is  a  very  passable  skull,  —  indeed,  I  may  say  that  it  is  a  very  35 


124  SELECTIONS   FROM    FOE 

excellent  skull,   according  to   the   vulgar  notions  about  such 

specimens  of  physiology  —  and  your  scarabceus  must  be  the 

queerest  scarabaus  in  the  world  if  it  resembles  it.    Why,  we 

may  get  up  a  very  thrilling  bit  of  superstition  upon  this  hint. 

5  I  presume  you  will  call  the  bug  scarabczus  caput  hominis,  or 

something  of  that  kind  —  there  are  many  similar  titles  in  the 

Natural  Histories.    But  where  are  the  antenna  you  spoke  of?  " 

"  The  antenna  !  "  said  Legrand,  who  seemed  to  be  getting 

unaccountably  warm  upon  the  subject ;   "I  am  sure  you  must 

10  see  the  antenna?.  I  made  them  as  distinct  as  they  are  in  the 
original  insect,  and  I  presume  that  is  sufficient." 

"Well,  well,"  I  said,  "  perhaps  you  have  —  still  I  don't  see 
them ;  "  and  I  handed  him  the  paper  without  additional 
remark,  not  wishing  to  ruffle  his  temper,  but  I  was  much  sur- 

1 5  prised  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken ;  his  ill  humor  puzzled  me 
—  and  as  for  the  drawing  of  the  beetle,  there  were  positively 
no  antenna  visible,  and  the  whole  did  bear  a  very  close 
resemblance  to  the  ordinary  cuts  of  a  death's-head. 

He  received  the  paper  very  peevishly,  and  was  about  to 

20  crumple  it,  apparently  to  throw  it  in  the  fire,  when  a  casual 
glance  at  the  design  seemed  suddenly  to  rivet  his  attention. 
In  an  instant  his  face  grew  violently  red  —  in  another  as 
excessively  pale.  For  some  minutes  he  continued  to  scrutinize 
the  drawing  minutely  where  he  sat.  At  length  he  arose,  took 

25  a  candle  from  the  table,  and  proceeded  to  seat  himself  upon  a 
sea-chest  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room.  Here  again  he 
made  an  anxious  examination  of  the  paper ;  turning  it  in  all 
directions.  He  said  nothing,  however,  and  his  conduct  greatly 
astonished  me ;  yet  I  thought  it  prudent  not  to  exacerbate 

30  the  growing  moodiness  of  his  temper  by  any  comment.  Pres 
ently  he  took  from  his  coat  pocket  a  wallet,  placed  the  paper 
carefully  in  it,  and  deposited  both  in  a  writing-desk,  which  he 
locked.  He  now  grew  more  composed  in  his  demeanor ;  but 
his  original  air  of  enthusiasm  had  quite  disappeared.  Yet  he 

35  seemed  not  so  much  sulky  as  abstracted.  As  the  evening  wore 


THE   GOLD-BUG  125 

away  he  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  revery,  from  which 
no  sallies  of  mine  could  arouse  him.  It  had  been  my  intention 
to  pass  the  night  at  the  hut,  as  I  had  frequently  done  before, 
but,  seeing  my  host  in  this  mood,  I  deemed  it  proper  to  take 
leave.  He  did  not  press  me  to  remain,  but,  as  I  departed,  he  5 
shook  my  hand  with  even  more  than  his  usual  cordiality. 

It  was  about  a  month  after  this  (and  during  the  interval  I 
had  seen  nothing  of.  Legrand)   when   I   received  a  visit,  at 
Charleston,  from  his  man,  Jupiter.    I  had  never  seen  the  good 
old  negro  look  so  dispirited,  and  I  feared  that  some  serious  10 
disaster  had  befallen  my  friend. 

"Well,  Jup,"  said  I,  "what  is  the  matter  now?  —  how  is 
your  master?  " 

"  Why,  to  speak  de  troof,  massa,  him  not  so  berry  well  as 
mought  be."  15 

"  Not  well !  I  am  truly  sorry  to  hear  it.  What  does  he 
complain  of  ?  " 

"  Dar  !  dat  's  it  !  —  him  neber  plain  of  notin  —  but  him 
berry  sick  for  all  dat." 

"  Very  sick,  Jupiter  !  — why  didn't  you  say  so  at  once?    Is  20 
he  confined  to  bed?  " 

"  No,  dat  he  aint !  —  he  aint  find  nowhar  —  dat 's  just  whar 
de  shoe  pinch  —  my  mind  is  got  to  be  berry  hebby  bout  poor 
Massa  Will." 

"  Jupiter,  I  should  like  to  understand  what  it  is  you  are  25 
talking  about.    You  say  your  master  is  sick.    Hasn't  he  told 
you  what  ails  him?  " 

"  Why,  massa,  taint  worf  while  for  to  git  mad  bout  de  mat 
ter  —  Massa  W7ill  say  nofrin  at  all  aint  de  matter  wid  him  — 
but  den  what  make  him  go  about  looking  dis  here  way,  wid  he  30 
head  down  and  he  soldiers  up,  and  as  white  as  a  gose?    And 
den  he  keep  a  syphon  all  de  time  —  " 

"  Keeps  a  what,  Jupiter?  " 

"  Keeps  a  syphon  wid  de  figgurs  on  de  slate  —  de  queerest 
figgurs  I  ebber  did  see.  Ise  gittin  to  be  skeered,  I  tell  you.  35 


126  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

Hab  for  to  keep  mighty  tight  eye  pon  him  noovers.  Todder 
day  he  gib  me  slip  fore  de  sun  up  and  was  gone  de  whole  ob 
de  blessed  day.  I  had  a  big  stick  ready  cut  for  to  gib  him 
d d  good  beating  when  he  did  come  —  but  Ise  sich  a  fool 

5  dat  I  hadn't  de  heart  arter  all  —  he  look  so  berry  poorly." 

"Eh?  —  what?  —  ah  yes!  —  upon  the  whole  I  think  you 
had  better  not  be  too  severe  with  the  poor  fellow  —  don't  flog 
him,  Jupiter  —  he  can't  very  well  stand  it  —  but  can  you  form 
no  idea  of  what  has  occasioned  this  illness,  or  rather  this 

10  change  of  conduct?  Has  anything  unpleasant  happened  since 
I  saw  you?" 

"  No,  massa,  dey  aint  bin  noffin  onpleasant  since  den  — 
it  'twas  fore  den  I'm  feared  —  'twas  de  berry  day  you  was 
dare." 

15       "  How?  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Why,  massa,  I  mean  de  bug —  dare  now." 
"The  what?" 

"  De  bug  —  I'm  berry  sartin  dat  Massa  Will  bin  bit  some 
where  bout  de  head  by  dat  goole-bug." 

20  "  And  what  cause  have  you,  Jupiter,  for  such  a  sup 
position?" 

"  Claws  enuff,  massa,  and  mouff  too.    I  nebber  did  see  sich 

a  d d  bug  —  he  kick  and  he  bite  ebery  ting  what  cum  near 

him.    Massa  Will  cotch  him  fuss,  but  had  for  to  let  him  go 

25  gin  mighty  quick,  I  tell  you  —  den  was  de  time  he  must  ha 
got  de  bite.  I  did  n't  like  de  look  ob  de  bug  mouff,  myself, 
no  how,  so  I  would  n't  take  hold  ob  him  wid  my  finger,  but  I 
cotch  him  wid  a  piece  ob  paper  dat  I  found.  I  rap  him  up  in 
de  paper  and  stuff  piece  of  it  in  he  mouff  —  dat  was  de  way." 

30  "  And  you  think,  then,  that  your  master  was  really  bitten 
by  the  beetle,  and  that  the  bite  made  him  sick?  " 

"  I  don't  tink  noffin  about  it  —  I  nose  it.  What  make  him 
dream  bout  de  goole  so  much,  if  taint  cause  he  bit  by  de  goole- 
bug?  Ise  heerd  bout  dem  goole-bugs  fore  dis." 

35       "  But  how  do  you  know  he  dreams  about  gold?  " 


THE   GOLD-BUG  I2/ 

"  How  I  know  ?  why,  cause  he  talk  about  it  in  he  sleep  — 
dat  's  how  I  nose." 

"  Well,  Jup,  perhaps  you  are  right ;  but  to  what  fortunate 
circumstance  am  I  to  attribute  the  honor  of  a  visit  from  you 
to-day?"  S 

"  What  de  matter,  massa?  " 

"  Did  you  bring  any  message  from  Mr.  Legrand  ?  " 

"  No,  massa,  I  bring  dis  here  pissel ;  "  and  here  Jupiter 
handed  me  a  note  which  ran  thus  : 

"  MY  DEAR ,  Why  have  I  not  seen  you  for  so  long  a  time  ?  10 

I  hope  you  have  not  been  so  foolish  as  to  take  offence  at  any  little 
brusquerie  of  mine  ;  but  no,  that  is  improbable. 

"  Since  I  saw  you  I  have  had  great  cause  for  anxiety.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,  yet  scarcely  know  how  to  tell  it,  or  whether 
I  should  tell  it  at  all.  15 

"  I  have  not  been  quite  well  for  some  days  past,  and  poor  old 
Jup  annoys  me,  almost  beyond  endurance,  by  his  well-meant  atten 
tions.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  —  he  had  prepared  a  huge  stick,  the 
other  day,  with  which  to  chastise  me  for  giving  him  the  slip,  and 
spending  the  day,  solus,  among  the  hills  on  the  mainland.  I  verily  20 
believe  that  my  ill  looks  alone  saved  me  a  flogging. 

"  I  have  made  no  addition  to  my  cabinet  since  we  met. 

"  If  you  can,  in  any  way,  make  it  convenient,  come  over  with 
Jupiter.  Do  come.  I  wish  to  see  you  to-night,  upon  business  of 
importance.  I  assure  you  that  it  is  of  the  highest  importance.  25 

"  Ever  yours, 

"  WILLIAM  LEGRAND." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  this  note  which  gave  me 
great  uneasiness.    Its  whole  style  differed  materially  from  that 
of   Legrand.    What  could    he   be  dreaming  of?    What    new  30 
crotchet  possessed  his  excitable  brain?    What  "  business  of  the 
highest    importance"   could    he   possibly   have    to   transact? 
Jupiter's  account  of  him  boded  no  good.    I  dreaded  lest  the 
continued  pressure  of  misfortune  had,  at  length,  fairly  unsettled 
the  reason  of   my  friend.    Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  35 
therefore,  I  prepared  to  accompany  the  negro. 


128  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

Upon  reaching  the  wharf,  I  noticed  a  scythe  and  three 
spades,  all  apparently  new,  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  in 
which  we  were  to  embark. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Jup?  "  I  inquired. 
5       "  Him  syfe,  massa,  and  spade." 

"  Very  true  ;  but  what  are  they  doing  here  ?  " 
"  Him  de  syfe  and  de  spade  what  Massa  Will  sis  pon  my 
buying  for  him  in  de  town,  and  de  debbil's  own  lot  of  money 
I  had  to  gib  for  em." 

10       "But  what,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  mysterious,  is  your 
'  Massa  Will '  going  to  do  with  scythes  and  spades?  " 

"  Dat  's  more  dan  /  know,  and  debbil  take  me  if  I  don't 
blieve  't  is  more  dan  he  know,  too.  But  it 's  all  cum  ob  de 
bug." 

15  Finding  that  no  satisfaction  was  to  be  obtained  of  Jupiter, 
whose  whole  intellect  seemed  to  be  absorbed  by  "  de  bug,"  I 
now  stepped  into  the  boat  and  made  sail.  With  a  fair  and 
strong  breeze  we  soon  ran  into  the  little  cove  to  the  north 
ward  of  Fort  Moultrie,  and  a  walk  of  some  two  miles  brought 
20  us  to  the  hut.  It  was  about  three  in  the  afternoon  when  we  ar 
rived.  Legrand  had  been  awaiting  us  in  eager  expectation.  He 
grasped  my  hand  with  a  nervous  empressement,  which  alarmed 
me  and  strengthened  the  suspicions  already  entertained.  His 
countenance  was  pale  even  to  ghastliness,  and  his  deep-set  eyes 
25  glared  with  unnatural  lustre.  After  some  inquiries  respecting 
his  health,  I  asked  him,  not  knowing  what  better  to  say,  if  he 

had  yet  obtained  the  scarabaus  from  Lieutenant  G . 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  coloring  violently,  "  I  got  it  from  him 

the  next  morning.    Nothing  should  tempt  me  to  part  with  that 

30  scarabaus.    Do  you  know  that  Jupiter  is  quite  right  about  it  ?  " 

"  In  what  way?  "   I  asked,  with  a  sad  foreboding  at  heart. 

"  In  supposing  it  to  be  a  bug  of  real  gold."    He  said  this  with 

an  air  of  profound  seriousness,  and  I  felt  inexpressibly  shocked. 

"  This  bug  is  to  make  my  fortune,"  he  continued,  with  a 

35  triumphant  smile,  "  to  reinstate  me  in  my  family  possessions. 


THE   GOLD-BUG  129 

Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  I  prize  it?  Since  Fortune  has 
thought  fit  to  bestow  it  upon  me,  I  have  only  to  use  it  properly 
and  I  shall  arrive  at  the  gold  of  which  it  is  the  index.  Jupiter, 
bring  me  that  scarabaus  !  " 

"  What  !  de  bug,  massa?  I  'd  rudder  not  go  fer  trubble  dat    5 
bug  —  you  mus  git  him  for  your  own  self."    Hereupon  Legrand 
arose,  with  a  grave  and  stately  air,  and  brought  me  the  beetle 
from  a  glass  case  in  which  it  was  enclosed.    It  was  a  beautiful 
scarabceus,  and,  at  that   time,  unknown   to  naturalists  —  of 
course  a  great  prize  in  a  scientific  point  of  view.    There  were  10 
two  round,  black  spots  near  one  extremity  of  the  back,  and  a 
long  one  near  the  other.    The  scales  were  exceedingly  hard 
and  glossy,  with  all  the  appearance  of  burnished  gold.    The 
weight  of  the  insect  was  very  remarkable,  and,  taking  all 
things  into  consideration,  I  could  hardly  blame  Jupiter  for  his  15 
opinion  respecting  it ;  but  what  to  make  of  Legrand's  agree 
ment  with  that  opinion,  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  tell. 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  said  he,  in  a  grandiloquent  tone,  when  I 
had  completed  my  examination  of  the  beetle,  "  I  sent  for  you 
chat  I  might  have  your  counsel  and  assistance  in  furthering  20 
the  views  of  Fate  and  of  the  bug  —  " 

"My  dear  Legrand,"  I  cried,  interrupting  him,  "you  are 
certainly  unwell,  and  had  better  use  some  little  precautions. 
You  shall  go  to  bed,  and  I  will  remain  with  you  a  few  days, 
until  you  get  over  this.  You  are  feverish  and  —  "  25 

"  Feel  my  pulse,"  said  he. 

I  felt  it,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  found  not  the  slightest  indi 
cation  of  fever. 

"  But  you  may  be  ill,  and  yet  have  no  fever.    Allow  me  this 
once  to  prescribe  for  you.    In  the  first  place,  go  to  bed.    In  30 
the  next  —  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  interposed,  "  I  am  as  well  as  I  can 
expect  to  be  under  the  excitement  which  I  suffer.  If  you 
really  wish  me  well,  you  will  relieve  this  excitement." 

"  And  how  is  this  to  be  done?  "  35 


130  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

"  Very  easily.  Jupiter  and  myself  are  going  upon  an  expe 
dition  into  the  hills,  upon  the  mainland,  and,  in  this  expedi 
tion,  we  shall  need  the  aid  of  some  person  in  whom  we  can 
confide.  You  are  the  only  one  we  can  trust.  Whether  we 
5  succeed  or  fail,  the  excitement  which  you  now  perceive  in  me 
will  be  equally  allayed." 

"  I  am  anxious  to  oblige  you  in  any  way,"  I  replied ;  "  but 
do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  infernal  beetle  has  any  connec 
tion  with  your  expedition  into  the  hills?  " 
10       « It  has." 

"  Then,  Legrand,  I  can  become  a  party  to  no  such  absurd 
proceeding." 

"I  am  sorry  —  very  sorry  —  for  we  shall  have  to  try  it  by 
ourselves." 

15       "Try  it  by  yourselves!    The  man  is  surely  mad!  —  but 
stay  —  how  long  do  you  propose  to  be  absent?  " 

"Probably  all  night.    We  shall  start  immediately,  and  be 
back,  at  all  events,  by  sunrise." 

"  And  will  you  promise  me,  upon  your  honor,  that  when 
20  this  freak  of  yours  is  over,  and  the  bug  business  (good  God  !) 
settled  to  your  satisfaction,  you  will  then  return  home  and 
follow  my  advice  implicitly,  as  that  of  your  physician?  " 

"Yes;  I  promise;  and  now  let  us  be  off,  for  we  have  no 
time  to  lose." 

25  With  a  heavy  heart  I  accompanied  my  friend.  We  started 
about  four  o'clock  —  Legrand,  Jupiter,  the  dog,  and  myself. 
Jupiter  had  with  him  the  scythe  and  spades  —  the  whole  of 
which  he  insisted  upon  carrying,  more  through  fear,  it  seemed 
to  me,  of  trusting  either  of  the  implements  within  reach  of  his 
30  master,  than  from  any  excess  of  industry  or  complaisance. 

His  demeanor  was  dogged  in  the  extreme,  and  "  dat  d d 

bug"  were  the  sole  words  which  escaped  his  lips  during  the 

journey.    For  my  own  part,  I  had  charge  of  a  couple  of  dark 

lanterns,  while  Legrand  contented  himself  with  the  scarabcEus^ 

35  which  he  carried  attached  to  the  end  of  a  bit  of  whip-cord ; 


THE   GOLD-BUG  131 

twirling  it  to  and  fro,  with  the  air  of  a  conjurer,  as  he  went. 
When  I  observed  this  last,  plain  evidence  of  my  friend's  aber 
ration  of  mind,  I  could  scarcely  refrain  from  tears.  I  thought 
it  best,  however,  to  humor  his  fancy,  at  least  for  the  present, 
or  until  I  could  adopt  some  more  energetic  measures  with  a  5 
chance  of  success.  In  the  meantime  I  endeavored,  but  all  in 
vain,  to  sound  him  in  regard  to  the  object  of  the  expedition. 
Having  succeeded  in  inducing  me  to  accompany  him,  he 
seemed  unwilling  to  hold  conversation  upon  any  topic  of 
minor  importance,  and  to  all  my  questions  vouchsafed  no  10 
other  reply  than  "  we  shall  see  !  " 

We  crossed  the  creek  at  the  head  of  the  island  by  means  of 
a  skiff,  and,  ascending  the  high  grounds  on  the  shore  of  the 
mainland,  proceeded  in  a  northwesterly  direction,  through  a 
tract  of  country  excessively  wild  and  desolate,  where  no  trace  15 
of  a  human  footstep  was  to  be  seen.  Legrand  led  the  way 
with  decision ;  pausing  only  for  an  instant,  here  and  there,  to 
consult  what  appeared  to  be  certain  landmarks  of  his  own 
contrivance  upon  a  former  occasion. 

In  this  manner  we  journeyed  for  about  two  hours,  and  the  20 
sun  was  just  setting  when  we  entered  a  region  infinitely  more 
dreary  than  any  yet  seen.    It  was  a  species  of  tableland,  near 
the   summit  of  an  almost  inaccessible   hill,  densely  wooded 
from  base  to  pinnacle,  and  interspersed  with  huge  crags  that 
appeared  to  lie  loosely  upon  the  soil,  and  in  many  cases  were  25 
prevented  from  precipitating  themselves  into  the  valleys  below 
merely  by  the  support  of  the  trees  against  which  they  reclined. 
Deep  ravines,  in  various  directions,  gave  an  air  of  still  sterner 
solemnity  to  the  scene. 

The  natural  platform  to  which  we  had  clambered  was  thickly  30 
overgrown  with  brambles,  through  which  we  soon  discovered 
that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  force  our  way  but  for 
the  scythe ;  and  Jupiter,  by  direction  of  his  master,  proceeded 
to  clear  for  us  a  path  to  the  foot  of  an  enormously  tall  tulip 
tree,  which  stood,  with  some  eight  or  ten  oaks,  upon  the  level,  35 


132  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

and  far  surpassed  them  all,  and  all  other  trees  which  I  had 
then  ever  seen,  in  the  beauty  of  its  foliage  and  form,  in  the 
wide  spread  of  its  branches,  and  in  the  general  majesty  of  its 
appearance.  When  we  reached  this  tree,  Legrand  turned  to 

5  Jupiter,  and  asked  him  if  he  thought  he  could  climb  it.  The 
old  man  seemed  a  little  staggered  by  the  question,  and  for 
some  moments  made  no  reply.  At  length  he  approached  the 
huge  trunk,  walked  slowly  around  it,  and  examined  it  with 
minute  attention.  When  he  had  completed  his  scrutiny,  he 

10  merely  said  : 

"  Yes,  massa,  Jup  climb  any  tree  he  ebber  see  in  he  life." 
"  Then  up  with  you  as  soon  as  possible,  for  it  will  soon  be 
too  dark  to  see  what  we  are  about." 

"  How  far  mus  go  up,  massa?  "  inquired  Jupiter. 

15  "  Get  up  the  main  trunk  first,  and  then  I  will  tell  you  which 
way  to  go  —  and  here  —  stop  !  take  this  beetle  with  you." 

"De  bug,  Massa  Will !  —  de  goole-bug !  "  cried  the  negro, 
drawing  back  in  dismay  —  "  what  for  mus  tote  de  bug  way  up 
detree?  —  d— n  if  I  do!" 

20  "  If  you  are  afraid,  Jup,  a  great  big  negro  like  you,  to  take 
hold  of  a  harmless  little  dead  beetle,  why,  you  can  carry  it  up 
by  this  string  —  but,  if  you  do  not  take  it  up  with  you  in  some 
way,  I  shall  be  under  the  necessity  of  breaking  your  head  with 
this  shovel." 

25  "  What  de  matter  now,  massa?  "  said  Jup,  evidently  shamed 
into  compliance  ;  "  always  want  fur  to  raise  fuss  wid  old  nigger. 
Was  only  funnin  anyhow.  Me  feered  de  bug  !  what  I  keer  for 
de  bug?"  Here  he  took  cautiously  hold  of  the  extreme  end 
of  the  string,  and,  maintaining  the  insect  as  far  from  his  person 

30  as  circumstances  would  permit,  prepared  to  ascend  the  tree. 

In  youth,  the  tulip  tree,  or  Liriodendron  Tulipifera,  the 
most  magnificent  of  American  foresters,  has  a  trunk  peculiarly 
smooth,  and  often  rises  to  a  great  height  without  lateral 
branches  ;  but,  in  its  riper  age,  the  bark  becomes  gnarled  and 

35  uneven,  while  many  short  limbs  make  their  appearance  on  the 


THE   GOLD-BUG  133 

stem.  Thus  the  difficulty  of  ascension,  in  the  present  case, 
lay  more  in  semblance  than  in  reality.  Embracing  the  huge 
cylinder,  as  closely  as  possible,  with  his  arms  and  knees,  seiz 
ing  with  his  hands  some  projections,  and  resting  his  naked 
toes  upon  others,  Jupiter,  after  one  or  two  narrow  escapes  5 
from  falling,  at  length  wriggled  himself  into  the  first  great 
fork,  and  seemed  to  consider  the  whole  business  as  virtually 
accomplished.  The  risk  of  the  achievement  was,  in  fact,  now 
over,  although  the  climber  was  some  sixty  or  seventy  feet  from 
the  ground.  10 

"  Which  way  mus  go  now,  Massa  Will?  "  he  asked. 

"  Keep  up  the  largest  branch,  —  the  one  on  this  side,"  said 
Legrand.  The  negro  obeyed  him  promptly,  and  apparently 
with  but  little  trouble,  ascending  higher  and  higher,  until  no 
glimpse  of  his  squat  figure  could  be  obtained  through  the  15 
dense  foliage  which  enveloped  it.  Presently  his  voice  was 
heard  in  a  sort  of  halloo. 

"  How  much  f udder  is  got  for  go?  " 

"  How  high  up  are  you?  "  asked  Legrand. 

"  Ebber  so  fur,"  replied  the  negro ;  "  can  see  de  sky  fru  de  20 
top  ob  de  tree." 

"  Never  mind  the  sky,  but  attend  to  what  I  say.  Look  down 
the  trunk  and  count  the  limbs  below  you  on  this  side.  How 
many  limbs  have  you  passed?  " 

"One,  two,  tree,  four,  fibe  —  I  done  pass  fibe  big  limb,  25 
massa,  pon  dis  side." 

"  Then  go  one  limb  higher." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  voice  was  heard  again,  announcing 
that  the  seventh  limb  was  attained. 

"  Now,  Jup,"  cried  Legrand,  evidently  much  excited,  "  I  30 
want  you  to  work  your  way  out  upon  that  limb  as  far  as  you 
can.    If  you  see  anything  strange,  let  me  know." 

By  this  time  what  little  doubt  I  might  have  entertained  of 
my  poor  friend's  insanity  was  put  finally  at  rest.  I  had  no 
alternative  but  to  conclude  him  stricken  with  lunacy,  and  I  35 


134  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

became  seriously  anxious  about  getting  him  home.  While  I 
was  pondering  upon  what  was  best  to  be  done,  Jupiter's  voice 
was  again  heard. 

"Mos  feerd  for  to  ventur  pon  dis  limb  berry  far  —  'tis 
5  dead  limb  putty  much  all  de  way." 

"  Did  you  say  it  was  a  dead 'limb,  Jupiter?  "  cried  Legrand 
in  a  quavering  voice. 

"  Yes,  massa,  him  dead  as  de  door-nail  —  done  up  for  sar- 
tain  —  done  departed  dis  here  life." 

10  "  What  in  the  name  of  heaven  shall  I  do?  "  asked  Legrand, 
seemingly  in  the  greatest  distress. 

"  Do  ! "  said  I,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  interpose  a  word, 
"  why  come  home  and  go  to  bed.  Come  now  !  —  that 's  a  fine 
fellow.    It 's  getting  late,  and,  besides,  you  remember  your 
15  promise." 

"  Jupiter,"  cried  he,  without  heeding  me  in  the  least,  "  do 
you  hear  me?  " 

"Yes,  Massa  Will,  hear  you  ebber  so  plain." 

"  Try  the  wood  well,  then,  with  your  knife,  and  see  if  you 
20  think  it  very  rotten." 

"  Him  rotten,  massa,  sure  nuff,"  replied  the  negro  in  a  few 
moments,  "  but  not  so  berry  rotten  as  mought  be.  Mought 
ventur  out  leetle  way  pon  de  limb  by  myself,  dat  's  true." 

"  By  yourself?  —  what  do  you  mean?  " 

25  "Why,  I  mean  de  bug.  Tis  berry  hebby  bug.  Spose  I 
drop  him  down  fuss,  and  den  de  limb  won't  break  wid  just  de 
weight  ob  one  nigger." 

"You  infernal  scoundrel  !  "  cried  Legrand,  apparently  much 
relieved,  "what  do  you  mean  by  telling  me  such  nonsense  as 
30  that?  As  sure  as  you  let  that  beetle  fall,  I  '11  break  your  neck. 
Look  here,  Jupiter  !  do  you  hear  me?  " 

"  Yes,  massa,  need  n't  hollo  at  poor  nigger  dat  style." 

"  Well  !  now  listen  !  —  if  you  will  venture  out  on  the  limb 
as  far  as  you  think  safe,  and  not  let  go  the  beetle,  I  '11  make 
35  you  a  present  of  a  silver  dollar  as  soon  as  you  get  down." 


THE   GOLD-BUG  135 

"I'm  gwine,  Massa  Will  —  deed  I  is,"  replied  the  negro 
very  promptly  —  "  mos  out  to  the  eend  now." 

"  Out  to  the  end !  "  here  fairly  screamed  Legrand,  "  do  you 
say  you  are  out  to  the  end  of  that  limb?  " 

"  Soon  be  to  de  eend,  massa, — o-o-o-o-oh  !  Lor-gol-a-marcy  !    5 
what  is  dis  here  pon  de  tree?  " 

"  Well !  "  cried  Legrand,  highly  delighted,  "  what  is  it?  " 

"  Why  taint  noffin  but  a  skull  —  somebody  bin  lef  him  head 
up  de  tree,  and  de  crows  done  gobble  ebery  bit  ob  de  meat  off." 

"  A  skull,  you  say  !  — very  well !  —  how  is  it  fastened  to  the  10 
limb?  —  what  holds  it  on?  " 

"  Sure  nuff,  massa ;  mus  look.  Why,  dis  berry  curous  sar- 
cumstance,  pon  my  word  —  dare's  a  great  big  nail  in  de  skull, 
what  fastens  ob  it  on  to  de  tree." 

"  Well  now,  Jupiter,  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you — do  you  hear?"  15 

"  Yes,  massa." 

"  Pay  attention,  then  !  —  find  the  left  eye  of  the  skull." 

"  Hum  !  hoo  !  dat  's  good  !  why,  dar  ain't  no  eye  lef  at  all." 

"  Curse  your  stupidity  !  do  you  know  your  right  hand  from 
your  left?"  20 

"Yes,  I  nose  dat  —  nose  all  bout  dat  —  'tis  my  lef  hand 
what  I  chops  de  wood  wid." 

"  To  be  sure  !  you  are  left-handed  ;  and  your  left  eye  is  on 
the  same  side  as  your  left  hand.    Now,  I  suppose,  you  can 
find  the  left  eye  of  the  skull,  or  the  place  where  the  left  eye  25 
has  been.    Have  you  found  it?  " 

Here  was  a  long  pause.    At  length  the  negro  asked,  "  Is  de 
lef  eye  of  de  skull  pon  de  same  side  as  de  lef  hand  of  de  skull, 
too?  —  cause  de  skull  ain't  got  not  a  bit  ob  a  hand  at  all  — 
nebber  mind  !    I  got  de  lef  eye  now  —  here  de  lef  eye  !  what  30 
mus  do  wid  it?  " 

"  Let  the  beetle  drop  through  it,  as  far  as  the  string  will 
reach  —  but  be  careful  and  not  let  go  your  hold  of  the  string." 

"All  dat  done,  Massa  Will;  mighty  easy  ting  for  to  put  de 
bug  fru  de  hole  —  look  out  for  him  dar  below  !  "  35 


136  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

During  this  colloquy  no  portion  of  Jupiter's  person  could  be 
seen ;  but  the  beetle,  which  he  had  suffered  to  descend,  was 
now  visible  at  the  end  of  the  string,  and  glistened  like  a  globe 
of  burnished  gold  in  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  some  of 
5  which  still  faintly  illumined  the  eminence  upon  which  we  stood. 
The  scarabtzus  hung  quite  clear  of  any  branches,  and,  if  allowed 
to  fall,  would  have  fallen  at  our  feet.  Legrand  immediately 
took  the  scythe,  and  cleared  with  it  a  circular  space,  three  or 
four  yards  in  diameter,  just  beneath  the  insect,  and,  having 

10  accomplished  this,  ordered  Jupiter  to  let  go  the  string  and 
come  down  from  the  tree. 

Driving  a  peg,  with  great  nicety,  into  the  ground  at  the 
precise  spot  where  the  beetle  fell,  my  friend  now  produced 
from  his  pocket  a  tape-measure.  Fastening  one  end  of  this 

15  at  that  point  of  the  trunk  of  the  tree  which  was  nearest  the 
peg,  he  unrolled  it  till  it  reached  the  peg,  and  thence  farther 
unrolled  it,  in  the  direction  already  established  by  the  two 
points  of  the  tree  and  the  peg,  for  the  distance  of  fifty  feet  — 
Jupiter  clearing  away  the  brambles  with  the  scythe.  At  the 

20  spot  thus  attained  a  second  peg  was  driven,  and  about  this,  as 
a  centre,  a  rude  circle,  about  four  feet  in  diameter,  described. 
Taking  now  a  spade  himself,  and  giving  one  to  Jupiter  and 
one  to  me,  Legrand  begged  us  to  set  about  digging  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

25  To  speak  the  truth,  I  had  no  especial  relish  for  such  amuse 
ment  at  any  time,  and,  at  that  particular  moment,  would  most 
willingly  have  declined  it ;  for  the  night  was  coming  on,  and  I 
felt  much  fatigued  with  the  exercise  already  taken ;  but  I  saw 
no  mode  of  escape,  and  was  fearful  of  disturbing  my  poor 

30  friend's  equanimity  by  a  refusal.  Could  I  have  depended, 
indeed,  upon  Jupiter's  aid,  I  would  have  had  no  hesitation  in 
attempting  to  get  the  lunatic  home  by  force ;  but  I  was  too 
well  assured  of  the  old  negro's  disposition  to  hope  that  he 
would  assist  me,  under  any  circumstances,  in  a  personal  contest 

35  with  his  master.    I  made  no  doubt  that  the  latter  had  been 


THE  GOLD-BUG  137 

infected  with  some  of  the  innumerable  Southern  superstitions 
about  money  buried,  and  that  his  fantasy  had  received  con 
firmation  by  the  finding  of  the  scarab&us,  or,  perhaps,  by 
Jupiter's  obstinacy  in  maintaining  it  to  be  "  a  bug  of  real  gold." 
A  mind  disposed  to  lunacy  would  readily  be  led  away  by  such  5 
suggestions,  especially  if  chiming  in  with  favorite  preconceived 
ideas;  and  then  I  called  to  mind  the  poor  fellow's  speech 
about  the  beetle's  being  "the  index  of  his  fortune."  Upon 
the  whole,  I  was  sadly  vexed  and  puzzled,  but  at  length  I  con 
cluded  to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity  —  to  dig  with  a  good  will,  10 
and  thus  the  sooner  to  convince  the  visionary,  by  ocular 
demonstration,  of  the  fallacy  of  the  opinions  he  entertained. 

The  lanterns  having  been  lit,  we  all  fell  to  work  with  a  zeal 
worthy  a  more  rational  cause ;  and,  as  the  glare  fell  upon  our 
persons  and  implements,  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  pictur-  15 
esque  a  group  we  composed,  and  how  strange  and  suspicious 
our  labors  must  have  appeared  to  any  interloper  who,  by 
chance,  might  have  stumbled  upon  our  whereabouts. 

We  dug  very  steadily  for  two  hours.  Little  was  said ;  and 
our  chief  embarrassment  lay  in  the  yelpings  of  the  dog,  who  20 
took  exceeding  interest  in  our  proceedings.  He,  at  length, 
became  so  obstreperous  that  we  grew  fearful  of  his  giving  the 
alarm  to  some  stragglers  in  the  vicinity ;  or,  rather,  this  was 
the  apprehension  of  Legrand;  for  myself,  I  should  have  re 
joiced  at  any  interruption  which  might  have  enabled  me  to  get  25 
the  wanderer  home.  The  noise  was,  at  length,  very  effectually 
silenced  by  Jupiter,  who,  getting  out  of  the  hole  with  a  dogged 
air  of  deliberation,  tied  the  brute's  mouth  up  with  one  of  his 
suspenders,  and  then  returned,  with  a  grave  chuckle,  to  his  task. 

When  the  time  mentioned  had  expired,  we  had  reached  a  30 
depth  of  five  feet,  and  yet  no  signs  of  any  treasure  became 
manifest.  A  general  pause  ensued,  and  I  began  to  hope  that 
the  farce  was  at  an  end.  Legrand,  ho\  ever,  although  evidently 
much  disconcerted,  wiped  his  brow  thoughtfully  and  recom 
menced.  We  had  excavated  the  entire  circle  of  four  feet  35 


138  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

diameter,  and  now  we  slightly  enlarged  the  limit,  and  went  to 
the  farther  depth  of  two  feet.  Still  nothing  appeared.  The 
gold-seeker,  whom  I  sincerely  pitied,  at  length  clambered  from 
the  pit,  with  the  bitterest  disappointment  imprinted  upon 
5  every  feature,  and  proceeded,  slowly  and  reluctantly,  to  put 
on  his  coat,  which  he  had  thrown  off  at  the  beginning  of  his 
labor.  In  the  meantime  I  made  no  remark.  Jupiter,  at  a 
signal  from  his  master,  began  to  gather  up  his  tools.  This 
done,  and  the  dog  having  been  unmuzzled,  we  turned  in  pro- 

10  found  silence  towards  home. 

We  had  taken,  perhaps,  a  dozen  steps  in  this  direction,  when, 
with  a  loud  oath,  Legrand  strode  up  to  Jupiter,  and  seized  him 
by  the  collar.  The  astonished  negro  opened  his  eyes  and  mouth 
to  the  fullest  extent,  let  fall  the  spades,  and  fell  upon  his  knees. 

15  "You  scoundrel,"  said  Legrand,  hissing  out  the  syllables 
from  between  his  clenched  teeth  —  "  you  infernal  black  villain  ! 
—  speak,  I  tell  you  !  —  answer  me  this  instant,  without  pre 
varication  !  — which  — which  is  your  left  eye?  " 

"  Oh,  my  golly,  Massa  Will !  aint  dis  here  my  lef  eye  for 

20  sartain?"  roared  the  terrified  Jupiter,  placing  his  hand  upon 
his  right  organ  of  vision,  and  holding  it  there  with  a  desperate 
pertinacity,  as  if  in  immediate  dread  of  his  master's  attempt 
at  a  gouge. 

"  I  thought  so  !    I  knew  it  !   Hurrah  !  "  vociferated  Legrand, 

25  letting  the  negro  go,  and  executing  a  series  of  curvets  and 
caracoles,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  his  valet,  who,  arising 
from  his  knees,  looked  mutely  from  his  master  to  myself,  and 
then  from  myself  to  his  master. 

"  Come  !  we  must  go  back,"  said  the  latter,  "  the  game  's 

30  not  up  yet ;  "  and  he  again  led  the  way  to  the  tulip  tree. 

"  Jupiter,"  said  he,  when  we  reached  its  foot,  "  come  here  ! 
Was  the  skull  nailed  to  the  limb  with  the  face  outward,  or  with 
the  face  to  the  limb?" 

"  De  face  was  out,  massa,  so  dat  de  crows  could  get  at  de 

35  eyes  good,  widout  any  trouble." 


THE   GOLD-BUG  139 

"  Well,  then,  was  it  this  eye  or  that  through  which  you 
dropped  the  beetle?  "  here  Legrand  touched  each  of  Jupiter's 
eyes. 

"  'Twas  dis  eye,  massa  —  de  lef  eye  —  jis  as  you  tell  me," 
and  here  it  was  his  right  eye  that  the  negro  indicated.  5 

"That  will  do  —  we  must  try  it  again." 

Here  my  friend,  about  whose  madness  I  now  saw,  or  fancied 
that  I  saw,  certain  indications  of  method,  removed  the  peg 
which  marked  the  spot  where  the  beetle  fell,  to  a  spot  about 
three  inches  to  the  westward  of  its  former  position.  Taking,  10 
now,  the  tape-measure  from  the  nearest  point  of  the  trunk 
to  the  peg,  as  before,  and  continuing  the  extension  in  a 
straight  line  to  the  distance  of  fifty  feet,  a  spot  was  indicated, 
removed,  by  several  yards,  from  the  point  at  which  we  had 
l>een  digging.  15 

Around  the  new  position  a  circle,  somewhat  larger  than  in 
Ihe  former  instance,  was  now  described,  and  we  again  set  to 
work  with  the  spades.  I  was  dreadfully  weary,  but,  scarcely 
understanding  what  had  occasioned  the  change  in  my  thoughts, 
I  felt  no  longer  any  great  aversion  from  the  labor  imposed.  I  20 
had  become  most  unaccountably  interested  —  nay,  even 
excited.  Perhaps  there  was  something,  amid  all  the  extrava 
gant  demeanor  of  Legrand  —  some  air  of  forethought,  or  of 
deliberation  —  which  impressed  me.  I  dug  eagerly,  and  now 
and  then  caught  myself  actually  looking,  with  something  that  25 
very  much  resembled  expectation,  for  the  fancied  treasure,  the 
vision  of  which  had  demented  my  unfortunate  companion.  At 
a  period  when  such  vagaries  of  thought  most  fully  possessed 
me,  and  when  we  had  been  at  work  perhr.ps  an  hour  and  a 
half,  we  were  again  interrupted  by  the  violent  howlings  of  the  30 
dog.  His  uneasiness,  in  the  first  instance,  had  been  evidently 
but  the  result  of  playfulness  or  caprice,  but  he  now  assumed  a 
bitter  and  serious  tone.  Upon  Jupiter's  again  attempting  to 
muzzle  him,  he  made  furious  resistance,  and,  leaping  into  the 
hole,  tore  up  the  mould  frantically  with  his  claws.  In  a  few  35 


140  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

seconds  he  had  uncovered  a  mass  of  human  bones,  forming  two 
complete  skeletons,  intermingled  with  several  buttons  of  metal, 
and  what  appeared  to  be  the  dust  of  decayed  woollen.  One  or 
two  strokes  of  a  spade  upturned  the  blade  of  a  large  Span- 
5  ish  knife,  and,  as  he  dug  farther,  three  or  four  loose  pieces  of 
gold  and  silver  coin  came  to  light. 

At  sight  of  these  the  joy  of  Jupiter  could  scarcely  be 
restrained,  but  the  countenance  of  his  master  wore  an  air  of 
extreme  disappointment.  He  urged  us,  however,  to  continue 

10  our  exertions,  and  the  words  were  hardly  uttered  when  I 
stumbled  and  fell  forward,  having  caught  the  toe  of  my  boot 
in  a  large  ring  of  iron  that  lay  half  buried  in  the  loose  earth. 

We  now  worked  in  earnest,  and  never  did  I  pass  ten  minutes 
of  more  intense  excitement.  During  this  interval  we  had 

15  fairly  unearthed  an  oblong  chest  of  wood,  which,  from  its  per 
fect  preservation  and  wonderful  hardness,  had  plainly  been 
subjected  to  some  mineralizing  process  —  perhaps  that  of  the 
bichloride  of  mercury.  This  box  was  three  feet  and  a  half 
long,  three  feet  broad,  and  two  and  a  half  feet  deep.  It  was 

20  firmly  secured  by  bands  of  wrought  iron,  riveted,  and  forming 
a  kind  of  trellis-work  over  the  whole.  On  each  side  of  the 
chest,  near  the  top,  were  three  rings  of  iron  —  six  in  all  —  by 
means  of  which  a  firm  hold  could  be  obtained  by  six  persons. 
Our  utmost  united  endeavors  served  only  to  disturb  the  coffer 

25  very  slightly  in  its  bed.  We  at  once  saw  the  impossibility  of 
removing  so  great  a  weight.  Luckily,  the  sole  fastenings  of 
the  lid  consisted  of  two  sliding  bolts.  These  we  drew  back  — 
trembling  and  panting  with  anxiety.  In  an  instant,  a  treasure 
of  incalculable  value  lay  gleaming  before  us.  As  the  rays  of 

30  the  lanterns  fell  within  the  pit,  there  flashed  upwards,  from 
a  confused  heap  of  gold  and  of  jewels,  a  glow  and  a  glare  that 
absolutely  dazzled  our  eyes. 

I  shall  not  pretend  to  describe  the  feelings  with  which  I 
gazed.  Amazement  was,  of  course,  predominant.  Le grand 

35  appeared  exhausted  with  excitement,   and  spoke  very  few 


THE   GOLD-BUG  141 

words.    Jupiter's  countenance   wore,   for   some    minutes,   as 
deadly  a  pallor  as  it  is   possible,   in   the    nature    of    things, 
for  any  negro's   visage  to  assume.    He   seemed  stupified  — 
thunder-stricken.    Presently  he  fell  upon  his  knees  in  the  pit, 
and,  burying  his  naked  arms  up  to  the  elbows  in  gold,  let  them    5 
there  remain,  as  if  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a  bath.    At  length, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  he  exclaimed,  as  if  in  a  soliloquy : 

"  And  dis  all  cum  ob  de  goole-bug  !  de  putty  goole-bug  ! 
de  poor  little  goole-bug,  what  I  boosed  in  dat  sabage  kind  ob 
style !  Aint  you  shamed  ob  yourself,  nigger? — answer  me  dat !  "  10 

It  became  necessary,  at  last,  that  I  should  arouse  both  mas 
ter  and  valet  to  the  expediency  of  removing  the  treasure.  It 
was  growing  late,  and  it  behooved  us  to  make  exertion,  that 
we  might  get  everything  housed  before  daylight.  It  was  diffi 
cult  to  say  what  should  be  done,  and  much  time  was  spent  in  15 
deliberation  —  so  confused  were  the  ideas  of  all.  We  finally 
lightened  the  box  by  removing  two-thirds  of  its  contents,  when 
we  were  enabled,  with  some  trouble,  to  raise  it  from  the  hole. 
The  articles  taken  out  were  deposited  among  the  brambles, 
and  the  dog  left  to  guard  them,  with  strict  orders  from  Jupiter  20 
neither,  upon  any  pretence,  to  stir  from  the  spot,  nor  to  open 
his  mouth  until  our  return.  We  then  hurriedly  made  for  home 
with  the  chest  ;  reaching  the  hut  in  safety,  but  after  excessive 
toil,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Worn  out  as  we  were,  it 
was  not  in  human  nature  to  do  more  just  now.  We  rested  25 
until  two,  and  had  supper ;  starting  for  the  hills  immediately 
afterwards,  armed  with  three  stout  sacks,  which  by  good  luck 
were  upon  the  premises.  A  little  before  four  we  arrived  at  the 
pit,  divided  the  remainder  of  the  booty,  as  equally  as  might  be, 
among  us,  and,  leaving  the  holes  unfilled,  again  set  out  for  the  .,0 
hut,  at  which,  for  the  second  time,  we  deposited  our  golden 
burdens,  just  as  the  first  streaks  of  the  dawn  gleamed  from 
over  the  tree-tops  in  the  East 

We  were  now  thoroughly  broken  down ;  but  the  intense 
excitement  of  the  time  denied  us  repose.  After  an  unquiet  35 


142  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

slumber  of  some  three  or  four  hours'  duration,  we  arose,  as  if 
by  preconcert,  to  make  examination  of  our  treasure. 

The  chest  had  been  full  to  the  brim,  and  we  spent  the  whole 
day,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  next  night,  in  a  scrutiny  of  its 
5  contents.  There  had  been  nothing  like  order  or  arrangement. 
Everything  had  been  heaped  in  promiscuously.  Having  assorted 
all  with  care,  we  found  ourselves  possessed  of  even  vaster  wealth 
than  we  had  at  first  supposed.  In  coin  there  was  rather  more 
than  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  :  estimating  the 

10  value  of  the  pieces,  as  accurately  as  we  could,  by  the  tables  of 
the  period.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  silver.  All  was  gold  of 
antique  date  and  of  great  variety  :  French,  Spanish,  and  Ger 
man  money,  with  a  few  English  guineas,  and  some  counters,  of 
which  we  had  never  seen  specimens  before.  There  were  sev- 

1 5  eral  very  large  and  heavy  coins,  so  worn  that  we  could  make 
nothing  of  their  inscriptions.  There  was  no  American  money. 
The  value  of  the  jewels  we  found  more  difficulty  in  estimating. 
There  were  diamonds  —  some  of  them  exceedingly  large  and 
fine  —  a  hundred  and  ten  in  all,  and  not  one  of  them  small ; 

20  eighteen  rubies  of  remarkable  brilliancy;  three  hundred  and 
ten  emeralds,  all  very  beautiful ;  and  twenty-one  sapphires, 
with  an  opal.  These  stones  had  all  been  broken  from  their 
settings  and  thrown  loose  in  the  chest.  The  settings  themselves, 
which  we  picked  out  from  among  the  other  gold,  appeared  to 

25  have  been  beaten  up  with  hammers,  as  if  to  prevent  identifi 
cation.  Besides  all  this,  there  was  a  vast  quantity  of  solid  gold 
ornaments :  nearly  two  hundred  massive  finger  and  ear-rings  ; 
rich  chains  —  thirty  of  these,  if  I  remember ;  eighty- three  very 
large  and  heavy  crucifixes  ;  five  gold  censers  of  great  value  ;  a 

30  prodigious  golden  punch-bowl,  ornamented  with  richly  chased 
vine-leaves  and  Bacchanalian  figures ;  with  two  sword-handles 
exquisitely  embossed,  and  many  other  smaller  articles  which 
I  cannot  recollect.  The  weight  of  these  valuables  exceeded 
three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  avoirdupois ;  and  in  this  esti- 

35  mate  I  have   not   included    one    hundred  and  ninety-seven 


THE   GOLD-BUG  143 

superb  gold  watches ;  three  of  the  number  being  worth  each 
five  hundred  dollars,  if  one.  Many  of  them  were  very  old, 
and  as  time-keepers  valueless,  the  works  having  suffered  more 
or  less  from  corrosion ;  but  all  were  richly  jewelled  and  in 
cases  of  great  worth.  We  estimated  the  entire  contents  of  the  5 
chest,  that  night,  at  a  million  and  a  half  of  dollars ;  and,  upon 
the  subsequent  disposal  of  the  trinkets  and  jewels  (a  few 
being  retained  for  our  own  use),  it  was  found  that  we  had 
greatly  undervalued  the  treasure. 

When,  at  length,  we  had  concluded  our  examination,  and  10 
the  intense  excitement  of  the  time  had  in  some  measure  sub 
sided,  Legrand,  who  saw  that  I  was  dying  with  impatience  for 
a  solution  of  this  most  extraordinary  riddle,  entered  into  a  full 
detail  of  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  it. 

"You  remember,"  said  he,  "the  night  when  I  handed  you  15 
the  rough  sketch  I  had  made  of  the  scarabceus.  You  recollect, 
also,  that  I  became  quite  vexed  at  you  for  insisting  that  my 
drawing  resembled  a  death's-head.  When  you  first  made  this 
assertion  I  thought  you  were  jesting ;  but  afterwards  I  called 
to  mind  the  peculiar  spots  on  the  back  of  the  insect,  and  20 
admitted  to  myself  that  your  remark  had  some  little  foundation 
in  fact.  Still,  the  sneer  at  my  graphic  powers  irritated  me  — 
for  I  am  considered  a  good  artist  —  and,  therefore,  when  you 
handed  me  the  scrap  of  parchment,  I  was  about  to  crumple  it 
up  and  throw  it  angrily  into  the  fire."  25 

"The  scrap  of  paper,  you  mean,"  said  I. 

"  No  :  it  had  much  of  the  appearance  of  paper,  and  at  first 
I  supposed  it  to  be  such,  but  when  I  came  to  draw  upon  it,  I 
discovered  it,  at  once,  to  be  a  piece  of  very  thin  parchment. 
It  was  quite  dirty,  you  remember.  Well,  as  I  was  in  the  very  30 
act  of  crumpling  it  up,  my  glance  fell  upon  the  sketch  at  which 
you  had  been  looking,  and  you  may  imagine  my  astonishment 
when  I  perceived,  in  fact,  the  figure  of  a  death's-head  just 
where,  it  seemed  to  me,  I  had  made  the  drawing  of  the  beetle. 
For  a  moment  I  was  too  much  amazed  to  think  with  accuracy.  35 


144  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

I  knew  that  my  design  was  very  different  in  detail  from  this  — 
although  there  was  a  certain  similarity  in  general  outline. 
Presently  I  took  a  candle  and,  seating  myself  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room,  proceeded  to  scrutinize  the  parchment  more 
5  closely.  Upon  turning  it  over,  I  saw  my  own  sketch  upon  the 
reverse,  just  as  I  had  made  it.  My  first  idea,  now,  was  mere 
surprise  at  the  really  remarkable  similarity  of  outline  —  at  the 
singular  coincidence  involved  in  the  fact  that,  unknown  to  me, 
there  should  have  been  a  skull  upon  the  other  side  of  the  parch- 

10  ment,  immediately  beneath  my  figure  of  the  scarab  ecus,  and 
that  this  skull,  not  only  in  outline,  but  in  size,  should  so  closely 
resemble  my  drawing.  I  say  the  singularity  of  this  coincidence 
absolutely  stupified  me  for  a  time.  This  is  the  usual  effect  of 
such  coincidences.  The  mind  struggles  to  establish  a  connec- 

15  tion  —  a  sequence  of  cause  and  effect  —  and,  being  unable  to 
do  so,  suffers  a  species  of  temporary  paralysis.  But,  when  I 
recovered  from  this  stupor,  there  dawned  upon  me  gradually 
a  conviction  which  startled  me  even  far  more  than  the  coinci 
dence.  I  began  distinctly,  positively,  to  remember  that  there: 

20  had  been  no  drawing  on  the  parchment  when  I  made  my 
sketch  of  the  scarabceus.  I  became  perfectly  certain  of  this ; 
for  I  recollected  turning  up  first  one  side  and  then  the  other, 
in  search  of  the  cleanest  spot.  Had  the  skull  been  then  there, 
of  course  I  could  not  have  failed  to  notice  it.  Here  was 

25  indeed  a  mystery  which  I  felt  it  impossible  to  explain ;  but, 
even  at  that  early  moment,  there  seemed  to  glimmer,  faintly, 
within  the  most  remote  and  secret  chambers  of  my  intellect,  a 
glow-worm-like  conception  of  that  truth  which  last  night's 
adventure  brought  to  so  magnificent  a  demonstration.  I  arose 

30  at  once,  and,  putting  the  parchment  securely  away,  dismissed 
all  farther  reflection  until  I  should  be  alone. 

"  When  you  had  gone,  and  when  Jupiter  was  fast  asleep, 
I  betook  myself  to  a  more  methodical  investigation  of  the 
affair.  In  the  first  place  I  considered  the  manner  in  which  the 

35  parchment  had  come  into  my  possession.    The  spot  where  we 


THE   GOLD-BUG  145 

discovered  the  scarabceus  was  on  the  coast  of  the  mainland, 
about  a  mile  eastward  of  the  island,  and  but  a  short  distance 
above  high- water  mark.  Upon  my  taking  hold  of  it,  it  gave  me 
a  sharp  bite,  which  caused  me  to  let  it  drop.  Jupiter,  with  his 
accustomed  caution,  before  seizing  the  insect,  which  had  flown  5 
towards  him,  looked  about  him  for  a  leaf,  or  something  of  that 
nature,  by  which  to  take  hold  of  it.  It  was  at  this  moment  that 
his  eyes,  and  mine  also,  fell  upon  the  scrap  of  parchment,  which 
I  then  supposed  to  be  paper.  It  was  lying  half-buried  in  the 
sand,  a  corner  sticking  up.  Near  the  spot  where  we  found  it,  10 
I  observed  the  remnants  of  the  hull  of  what  appeared  to  have 
been  a  ship's  long  boat.  The  wreck  seemed  to  have  been  there 
for  a  very  great  while ;  for  the  resemblance  to  boat  timbers 
could  scarcely  be  traced. 

"  Well,  Jupiter  picked  up  the  parchment,  wrapped  the  beetle  15 
in  it,  and  gave  it  to  me.    Soon  afterwards  we  turned  to  go 

home,  and  on  the  way  met  Lieutenant  G .    I  showed  him 

the  insect,  and  he  begged  me  to  let  him  take  it  to  the  fort.  On 
my  consenting,  he  thrust  it  forthwith  into  his  waistcoat  pocket, 
without  the  parchment  in  which  it  had  been  wrapped,  and  20 
which  I  had  continued  to  hold  in  my  hand  during  his  inspec 
tion.    Perhaps  he  dreaded  my  changing  my  mind,  and  thought 
it  best  to  make  sure  of  the  prize  at  once  —  you  know  how 
enthusiastic    he   is   on   all    subjects  connected   with    Natural 
History.    At  the  same  time,  without  being  conscious  of  it,  I  25 
must  have  deposited  the  parchment  in  my  own  pocket. 

"  You  remember  that  when  I  went  to  the  table,  for  the  pur 
pose  of  making  a  sketch  of  the  beetle,  I  found  no  paper  where 
it  was  usually  kept.  I  looked  in  the  drawer,  and  found  none 
there.  I  searched  my  pockets,  hoping  to  find  an  old  letter,  and  30 
then  my  hand  fell  upon  the  parchment.  I  thus  detail  the 
precise  mode  in  which  it  came  into  my  possession ;  for  the 
circumstances  impressed  me  with  peculiar  force. 

"  No  doubt  you  will  think  me  fanciful  —  but  I  had  already 
established  a  kind  of  connection.    I  had  put  together  two  links  35 


146  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

of  a  great  chain.  There  was  a  boat  lying  on  a  seacoast,  and  not 
far  from  the  boat  was  a  parchment  —  not  a  paper — with  a 
skull  depicted  on  it.  You  will,  of  course,  ask  '  where  is  the 
connection  ? '  I  reply  that  the  skull,  or  death's-head,  is  the 
5  well-known  emblem  of  the  pirate.  The  flag  of  the  death's- 
head  is  hoisted  in  all  engagements. 

"  I  have  said  that  the  scrap  was  parchment,  and  not  paper. 
Parchment  is  durable  —  almost  imperishable.  Matters  of  little 
moment  are  rarely  consigned  to  parchment ;  since,  for  the 

10  mere  ordinary  purposes  of  drawing  or  writing,  it  is  not  nearly 
so  well  adapted  as  paper.  This  reflection  suggested  some 
meaning  —  some  relevancy  —  in  the  death's-head.  I  did  not 
fail  to  observe,  also,  the  form  of  the  parchment.  Although  one 
of  its  corners  had  been,  by  some  accident,  destroyed,  it  could 

15  be  seen  that  the  original  form  was  oblong.  It  was  just  such  a 
slip,  indeed,  as  might  have  been  chosen  for  a  memorandum  — 
for  a  record  of  something  to  be  long  remembered  and  carefully 
preserved." 

"  But,"  I  interposed,  "  you  say  that  the  skull  was  not  upon 

20  the  parchment  when  you  made  the  drawing  of  the  beetle. 
How  then  do  you  trace  any  connection  between  the  boat  and 
the  skull  —  since  this  latter,  according  to  your  own  admission, 
must  have  been  designed  (God  only  knows  how  or  by  whom) 
at  some  period  subsequent  to  your  sketching  the  scarab tzus?  " 

25  "  Ah,  hereupon  turns  the  whole  mystery ;  although  the 
secret,  at  this  point,  I  had  comparatively  little  difficulty  in 
solving.  My  steps  were  sure, -and  could  afford  but  a  single 
result.  I  reasoned,  for  example,  thus  :  When  I  drew  the  scara- 
baus,  there  was  no  skull  apparent  on  the  parchment.  When  I 

30  had  completed  the  drawing  I  gave  it  to  you,  and  observed  you 

narrowly  until  you  returned  it.     You,  therefore,  did  not  design 

the  skull,  and  no  one  else  was  present  to  do  it.    Then  it  was 

not  done  by  human  agency.    And  nevertheless  it  was  done. 

"  At  this  stage  of  my  reflections  I  endeavored  to  remember, 

35  and    did  remember,  with  entire   distinctness,  every   incident 


THE   GOLD-BUG  147 

which  occurred  about  the  period  in  question.  The  weather 
was  chilly  (O  rare  and  happy  accident !),  and  a  fire  was  blazing 
on  the  hearth.  I  was  heated  with  exercise  and  sat  near  the 
table.  You,  however,  had  drawn  a  chair  close  to  the  chimney. 
Just  as  I  placed  the  parchment  in  your  hand,  and  as  you  were  5 
in  the  act  of  inspecting  it,  Wolf,  the  Newfoundland,  entered, 
and  leaped  upon  your  shoulders.  With  your  left  hand  you 
caressed  him  and  kept  him  off,  while  your  right,  holding  the 
parchment,  was  permitted  to  fall  listlessly  between  your  knees, 
and  in  close  proximity  to  the  fire.  At  one  moment  I  thought  10 
the  blaze  had  caught  it,  and  was  about  to  caution  you,  but, 
before  I  could  speak,  you  had  withdrawn  it,  and  were  engaged 
in  its  examination.  When  I  considered  all  these  particulars,  I 
doubted  not  for  a  moment  that  heat  had  been  the  agent  in 
bringing  to  light,  on  the  parchment,  the  skull  which  I  saw  15- 
designed  on  it.  You  are  well  aware  that  chemical  preparations 
exist,  and  have  existed  time  out  of  mind,  by  means  of  which  it 
is  possible  to  write  on  either  paper  or  vellum,  so  that  the 
characters  shall  become  visible  only  when  subjected  to  the 
action  of  fire.  Zaffre,  digested  in  aqua  regia,  and  diluted  with  20 
four  times  its  weight  of  water,  is  sometimes  employed  ;  a  green 
tint  results.  The  regulus  of  cobalt,  dissolved  in  spirit  of  nitre, 
gives  a  red.  These  colors  disappear  at  longer  or  shorter  inter 
nals  after  the  material  written  upon  cools,  but  again  become 
apparent  upon  the  re-application  of  heat.  25 

"  I  now  scrutinized  the  death's-head  with  care.  Its  outer 
edges  —  the  edges  of  the  drawing  nearest  the  edge  of  the 
vellum  —  were  far  more  distinct  than  the  others.  It  was  clear 
that  the  action  of  the  caloric  had  been  imperfect  or  unequal. 
I  immediately  kindled  a  fire,  and  subjected  every  portion  of  30 
the  parchment  to  a  glowing  heat.  At  first,  the  only  effect  was 
the  strengthening  of  the  faint  lines  in  the  skull ;  but,  on  per 
severing  in  the  experiment,  there  became  visible  at  the  corner 
of  the  slip,  diagonally  opposite  to  the  spot  in  which  the  death's- 
head  was  delineated,  the  figure  of  what  I  at  first  supposed  to  35 


148  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

be  a  goat.    A  closer  scrutiny,  however,  satisfied  me  that  it  was 
intended  for  a  kid." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  said  I,  "  to  be  sure  I  have  no  right  to  laugh  at 
you  —  a  million  and  a  half  of  money  is  too  serious  a  matter  for 
5  mirth  —  but  you  are  not  about  to  establish  a  third  link  in  your 
chain  :  you  will  not  find  any  especial  connection  between  your 
pirates  and  a  goat ;  pirates,  you  know,  have  nothing  to  do  with 
goats;  they  appertain  to  the  farming  interest." 

"  But  I  have  just  said  that  the  figure  was  not  that  of  a  goat." 

10       "Well,  a  kid,  then  —  pretty  much  the  same  thing." 

"Pretty  much,  but  not  altogether,"  said  Legrand.  "You 
may  have  heard  of  one  Captain  Kidd.  I  at  once  looked  on  the 
figure  of  the  animal  as  a  kind  of  punning  or  hieroglyphical 
signature.  I  say  signature,  because  its  position  on  the  vellum 

15  suggested  this  idea.    The  death's-head  at  the  corner  diagonally 

opposite  had,  in  the  same  manner,  the  air  of  a  stamp,  or  seal. 

But  I  was  sorely  put  out  by  the  absence  of  all  else — of  the  body 

to  my  imagined  instrument  —  of  the  text  for  my  context." 

"  I  presume  you  expected  to  find  a  letter  between  the  stamp 

20  and  the  signature." 

"  Something  of  that  kind.  The  fact  is,  I  felt  irresistibly 
impressed  with  a  presentiment  of  some  vast  good  fortune 
impending.  I  can  scarcely  say  why.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was 
rather  a  desire  than  an  actual  belief ;  —  but  do  you  know  that 

25  Jupiter's  silly  words,  about  the  bug  being  of  solid  gold,  had  a 
remarkable  effect  on  my  fancy?  And  then  the  series  of  acci 
dents  and  coincidences  —  these  were  so  very  extraordinary. 
Do  you  observe  how  mere  an  accident  it  was  that  these  events 
should  have  occurred  on  the  sole  day  of  all  the  year  in  which 

-50  it  has  been,  or  may  be,  sufficiently  cool  for  fire,  and  that  with 
out  the  fire,  or  without  the  intervention  of  the  dog  at  the  pre 
cise  moment  in  which  he  appeared,  I  should  never  have  become 
aware  of  the  death's-head,  and  so  never  the  possessor  of  the 
treasure?  " 

35       "  But  proceed  —  I  am  all  impatience." 


THE   GOLD-BUG  149 

"  Well ;  you  have  heard,  of  course,  the  many  stories  current 
—  the  thousand  vague  rumors  afloat  about  money  buried,  some 
where  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  by  Kidd  and  his  associates. 
These  rumors  must  have  had  some  foundation  in  fact.  And 
that  the  rumors  have  existed  so  long  and  so  continuously,  5 
could  have  resulted,  it  appeared  to  me,  only  from  the  circum 
stance  of  the  buried  treasure  still  remaining  entombed.  Had 
Kidd  concealed  his  plunder  for  a  time,  and  afterwards 
reclaimed  it,  the  rumors  would  scarcely  have  reached  us  in 
their  present  unvarying  form.  You  will  observe  that  the  stories  10 
told  are  all  about  money-seekers,  not  about  money-finders. 
Had  the  pirate  recovered  his  money,  there  the  affair  would 
have  dropped.  It  seemed  to  me  that  some  accident  —  say  the 
loss  of  a  memorandum  indicating  its  locality  —  had  deprived 
him  of  the  means  of  recovering  it,  and  that  this  accideat  had  15 
become  known  to  his  followers,  who  otherwise  might  never 
have  heard  that  treasure  had  been  concealed  at  all,  and  Tho, 
busying  themselves  in  vain,  because  unguided,  attempts  to 
regain  it,  had  given  first  birth,  and  then  universal  currency, 
to  the  reports  which  are  now  so  common.  Have  you  ever  heard  20 
of  any  important  treasure  being  unearthed  along  the  coast?  " 

"  Never." 

"  But  that  Kidd's  accumulations  were  immense  is  well 
known.  I  took  it  for  granted,  therefore,  that  the  earth  still 
held  them ;  and  you  will  scarcely  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  25 
that  I  felt  a  hope,  nearly  amounting  to  certainty,  that  the 
parchment  so  strangely  found  involved  a  lost  record  of  the 
place  of  deposit." 

"  But  how  did  you  proceed?  " 

"  I  held  the  vellum  again  to  the  fire,  after  increasing  the  30 
heat,  but  nothing  appeared.  I  now  thought  it  possible  that 
the  coating  of  dirt  might  have  something  to  do  with  the  fail 
ure  ;  so  I  carefully  rinsed  the  parchment  by  pouring  warm 
water  over  it,  and,  having  done  this,  I  placed  it  in  a  tin  pan, 
with  the  skull  downwards,  and  put  the  pan  upon  a  furnace  of  35 


150  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

lighted  charcoal.  In  a  few  minutes,  the  pan  having  become 
thoroughly  heated,  I  removed  the  slip,  and,  to  my  inexpressi 
ble  joy,  found  it  spotted,  in  several  places,  with  what  appeared 
to  be  figures  arranged  in  lines.  Again  I  placed  it  in  the  pan, 
5  and  suffered  it  to  remain  another  minute.  Upon  taking  it  off, 
the  whole  was  just  as  you  see  it  now." 

Here  Legrand,  having  reheated  the  parchment,  submitted 
it  to  my  inspection.  The  following  characters  were  rudely 
traced,  in  a  red  tint,  between  the  death's-head  and  the  goat  :  — 


10 

8)s*t;46(;88*96*?;8)*t(;48S);S*t2:*1:(;4956*2(s*--  4)8^8*54069 


"  But,"  said  I,  returning  him  the  slip,  "I  am  as  much  in 

15  the  dark  as  ever.  Were  all  the  jewels  of  Golconda  awaiting  me 
on  my  solution  of  this  enigma,  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  should 
be  unable  to  earn  them." 

"And  yet,"  said  Legrand,  "the  solution  is  by  no  means  so  dif 
ficult  as  you  might  be  led  to  imagine  from  the  first  hasty  inspec- 

20  tion  of  the  characters.  These  characters,  as  any  one  might 
readily  guess,  form  a  cipher  —  that  is  to  say,  they  convey  a 
meaning  ;  but  then,  from  what  is  known  of  Kidd,  I  could  not 
suppose  him  capable  of  constructing  any  of  the  more  abstruse 
cryptographs.  I  made  up  my  mind,  at  once,  that  this  was  of  a 

25  simple  species  —  such,  however,  as  would  appear,  to  the  crude 
intellect  of  the  sailor,  absolutely  insoluble  without  the  key." 
"And  you  really  solved  it?  " 

"  Readily  ;  I  have  solved  others  of  an  abstruseness  ten  thou 
sand    times    greater.    Circumstances,    and   a   certain   bias   of 

30  mind,  have  led  me  to  take  interest  in  such  riddles,  and  it 
may  well  be  doubted  whether  human  ingenuity  can  construct 
an  enigma  of  the  kind  which  human  ingenuity  may  not,  by 
proper  application,  resolve.  In  fact,  having  once  established 
connected  and  legible  characters,  I  scarcely  gave  a  thought 

35  to  the  mere  difficulty  of  developing  their  import. 


THE   GOLD-BUG  151 

"  In  the  present  case  —  indeed  in  all  cases  of  secret  writing  — 
the  first  question  regards  the  language  of  the  cipher ;  for  the 
principles  of  solution,  so  far,  especially,  as  the  more  simple  ciphers 
are  concerned,  depend  on,  and  are  varied  by,  the  genius  of  the 
particular  idiom.  In  general,  there  is  no  alternative  but  experi-  5 
ment  (directed  by  probabilities)  of  every  tongue  known  to  him 
who  attempts  the  solution,  until  the  true  one  be  attained.  But, 
with  the  cipher  now  before  us,  all  difficulty  is  removed  by  the 
signature.  The  pun  upon  the  word  '  Kidd '  is  appreciable  in 
no  other  language  than  the  English.  But  for  this  consideration  10 
I  should  have  begun  my  attempts  with  the  Spanish  and  French, 
as  the  tongues  in  which  a  secret  of  this  kind  would  most  natu 
rally  have  been  written  by  a  pirate  of  the  Spanish  main.  As  it 
was,  I  assumed  the  cryptograph  to  be  English. 

1  'You  observe  there  are  no  divisions  between  the  words.  15 
Had  there  been  divisions,  the  task  wrould  have  been  compara 
tively  easy.    In  such  case  I  should  have  commenced  with  a 
collation  and  analysis  of  the  shorter  words,  and,  had  a  word 
of  a  single  letter  occurred,  as  is  most  likely  (a  or  /,  for  exam 
ple),  I  should  have  considered  the  solution  as  assured.    But,  2c 
there  being  no  division,  my  first  step  was  to  ascertain   the 
predominant  letters,  as  well  as  the  least  frequent.    Counting 
all,  I  constructed  a  table,  thus  : 


r  8  ther 

z  are  33 

;          4 

26 

4 

19 

J) 

16 

# 

13 

5 

1             12 

6 

««             II 

"t  I 

8 

0 

6 

92 

5 

'•3 

4 

? 

*           3 

IT 

'               2 

<•               I 

35 


152  SELECTIONS    FROM    FOE 

"  Now,  in  English,  the  letter  which  most  frequently  occurs 
is  e.    Afterwards  the  succession  runs  thus  :  aoidhnrstu 
ycfglmwbkpqxz.    E  predominates,  however,  so  re 
markably  that  an  individual  sentence  of  any  length  is  rarely 
5  seen,  in  which  it  is  not  the  prevailing  character. 

"  Here,  then,  we  have,  in  the  very  beginning,  the  ground 
work  for  something  more  than  a  mere  guess.  The  general 
use  which  may  be  made  of  the  table  is  obvious  —  but,  in  this 
particular  cipher,  we  shall  only  very  partially  require  its 

10  aid.     As  our  predominant  character  is  8,  we  will  commence 

by  assuming  it  as  the  e  of  the  natural  alphabet.     To  verify 

the   supposition,  let  us  observe  if   the  8   be  seen   often  in 

couples  —  for  e  is  doubled  with  great  frequency  in  English 

—  in  such  words,  for  example,  as   '  meet,'   *  fleet,'   '  speed,' 

15  'seen,'  'been,'  'agree,'  etc.  In  the  present  instance  we  see 
it  doubled  no  less  than  five  times,  although  the  cryptograph 
is  brief. 

"  Let  us  assume  8,  then,  as  e.  Now,  of  all  words  in  the 
language,  '  the '  is  most  usual ;  let  us  see,  therefore,  whether 

20  there  are  not  repetitions  of  any  three  characters,  in  the  same 
order  of  collocation,  the  last  of  them  being  8.  If  we  discover 
repetitions  of  such  letters,  so  arranged,  they  will  most  probably 
represent  the  word  '  the.'  On  inspection,  we  find  no  less  than 
seven  such  arrangements,  the  characters  being;  48.  We  may, 

25  therefore,  assume  that  the  semicolon  represents  /,  that  4 
represents  ^,  and  that  8  represents  e  —  the  last  being  now 
well  confirmed.  Thus  a  great  step  has  been  taken. 

"  But,  having  established  a  single  word,  we  are  enabled  to 
establish  a  vastly  important  point;  that  is  to  say,  several 

30  commencements  and  terminations  of  other  words.  Let  us 
refer,  for  example,  to  the  last  instance  but  one,  in  which  com 
bination  ;  48  occurs  —  not  far  from  the  end  of  the  cipher. 
We  know  that  trie  semicolon  immediately  ensuing  is  the  com 
mencement  of  a  word,  and,  of  the  six  characters  succeeding 

35  this  '  the/  we  are  cognizant  of  no  less  than  five.    Let  us  set 


THE   GOLD-BUG  153 

these  characters  down,  thus,  by  the  letters  we  know  them  to 
represent,  leaving  a  space  for  the  unknown  — 

t  eeth 

"  Here  we  are  enabled,  at  once,  to  discard  the   '  thj  as 
forming  no  portion  of  the  word  commencing  with  the  first  /;     5 
since,  by  experiment  of  the  entire  alphabet  for  a  letter  adapted 
to  the  vacancy,  we  perceive  that  no  word  can  be  formed  of 
which  this  th  can  be  a  part.    We  are  thus  narrowed  into 

tee, 

and,  going  through  the  alphabet,  if  necessary,  as  before,  we  10 
arrive  at  the  word  '  tree '  as  the  sole  possible  reading.    We 
thus  gain  another  letter  r,  represented  by  (,  with  the  words 
*  the  tree  '  in  juxtaposition. 

"Looking  beyond   these  words,   for  a  short   distance,   we 
again  see  the  combination  ;48,  and  employ  it  by  way  of  termi-  15 
nation  to  what  immediately  precedes.    We   have  thus    this 

arrangement : 

the  tree  ;4(t?34  the, 

or,   substituting   the   natural   letters,   where   known,   it  rea<}s 

thus :  20 

the  tree  thresh  the. 

"  Now,  if,  in  place  of  the  unknown  characters,  we  leave 
blank  spaces,  or  substitute  dots,  we  read  thus  : 

the  tree  thr  .  .  .  h  the, 

when  the  word  *  through '  makes,  itself  evident  at  once.    But  25 
this  discovery  gives  us  three  new  letters,  o,  u,  and  g,  repre 
sented  by  I  ?  and  3. 

"  Looking  now,  narrowly,  through  the  cipher  for  combina 
tions  of  known  characters,  we  find,  not  very  far  from  the 
beginning,  this  arrangement,  30 

83(88,  or  egree, 


154  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

which,  plainly,  is  the  conclusion  of  the  word  'degree,'  and 
gives  us  another  letter,  d,  represented  by  f. 

"  Four  letters  beyond  the  word  '  degree,'  we  perceive  the 

combination 
5  546(588* 

"Translating  the  known  characters,  and  representing  the 
unknown  by  dots,  as  before,  we  read  thus  : 

th  .  rtee, 

an  arrangement  immediately  suggestive  of  the  word  '  thirteen,' 
10  and  again  furnishing  us  with  two  new  characters,  i  and   ;/, 
represented  by  6  and  *. 

"  Referring,  now,  to  the  beginning  of  the  cryptograph,  we 
find  the  combination, 


15       "Translating  as  before,  we  obtain 

good, 

which  assures  us  that  the  first  letter  is  A,  and  that  the  first 
two  words  are  '  A  good.' 

"To  avoid  confusion,  it  is  now  time  that  we  arrange  our 
20  key,  as  far  as  discovered,  in  a  tabular  form.    It  will  stand 

thus: 

5  represents  a 

f          "          d 

8          «          e 

25  3  "  g 

4  "  h 

6  "  i 
*  "  n 
%  «  o 

30  (          "          r 


••       t 


"  We  have,  therefore,  no  less  than  ten  of  the  most  important 
letters  represented,  and  it  will  be  unnecessary  to  proceed  with 
the  details  of  the  solution.  I  have  said  enough  to  convince 


THE   GOLD-BUG  155 

you  that  ciphers  of  this  nature  are  readily  soluble,  and  to  give 
you  some  insight  into  the  rationale  of  their  development.  But 
be  assured  that  the  specimen  before  us  appertains  to  the  very 
simplest  species  of  cryptograph.  It  now  only  remains  to  give 
you  the  full  translation  of  the  characters  upon  the  parchment,  5 
as  unriddled.  Here  it  is  : 

"  '  A  good  glass  in   the  bishop* s  hostel  in  the  devil 's  seat 
twenty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes  northeast  and  by  north 
main  branch  seventh  limb  east  side  shoot  from  the  left  eye  of  the 
death's-head  a  bee  line  from  the  tree  through  the  shot  fifty  feet  10 
out:  " 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  the  enigma  seems  still  in  as  bad  a  condi 
tion  as  ever.  How  is  it  possible  to  extort  a  meaning  from  all 
this  jargon  about  'devil's  seats,'  'death's-heads,'  and  'bishop's 
hotels'?"  15 

"  I  confess,"  replied  Legrand,  "  that  the  matter  still  wears 
a  serious  aspect,  when  regarded  with  a  casual  glance.  My  first 
endeavor  was  to  divide  the  sentence  into  the  natural  division 
intended  by  the  cryptographist." 

"You  mean,  to  punctuate  it?  "  t   20 

"  Something  of  that  kind." 

"  But  how  was  it  possible  to  effect  this?  " 

"  I  reflected  that  it  had  been  zpoinf  with  the  writer  to  run 
his  words  together  without  division,  so  as  to  increase  the  diffi 
culty  of  solution.  Now,  a  not  over-acute  man,  in  pursuing  such  25 
an  object,  would  be  nearly  certain  to  overdo  the  matter. 
When,  in  the  course  of  his  composition,  he  arrived  at  a  break 
in  his  subject  which  would  naturally  require  a  pause,  or  a  point, 
he  would  be  exceedingly  apt  to  run  his  characters,  at  this 
place,  more  than  usually  close  together.  If  you  will  observe  30 
the  MS.,  in  the  present  instance,  you  will  easily  detect  five 
such  cases  of  unusual  crowding.  Acting  on  this  hint,  I  made 
the  division  thus  : 

"  '  A  good  glass  in  the  bishop's  hostel  in  the  deviFs  seat  — 
twenty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes  —  northeast  and  by  35 


156  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

north  —  main  branch  seventh  limb  east  side  —  shoot  from  the 
left  eye  of  the  deaths-head  —  a  bee  line  from  the  tree  through 
the  shot  fifty  feet  out:  " 

"Even  this  division,"  said  I,  "leaves  me  still  in  the  dark." 
5  "  It  left  me  also  in  the  dark,"  replied  Legrand,  "for  a  few 
days ;  during  which  I  made  diligent  inquiry,  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  Sullivan's  Island,  for  any  building  which  went  by  the 
name  of  the  «  Bishop's  Hotel ' ;  for,  of  course,  I  dropped  the 
obsolete  word  '  hostel.'  Gaining  no  information  on  the  sub- 

10  ject,  I  was  on  the  point  of  extending  my  sphere  of  search,  and 
proceeding  in  a  more  systematic  manner,  when  one  morning 
it  entered  into  my  head,  quite  suddenly,  that  this  *  Bishop's 
Hostel'  might  have  some  reference  to  an  old  family,  of  the 
name  of  Bessop,  which,  time  out  of  mind,  had  held  possession 

15  of  an  ancient  manor-house,  about  four  miles  to  the  northward 
of  the  island.  I  accordingly  went  over  to  the  plantation,  and 
reinstituted  my  inquiries  among  the  older  negroes  of  the 
place.  At  length  one  of  the  most  aged  of  the  women  said 
that  she  had  heard  of  such  a  place  as  Bessop 's  Castle,  and 

20  thought  that  she  could  guide  me  to  it,  but  that  it  was  not  a 
castle,  nor  a  tavern,  but  a  high  rock. 

"  I  offered  to  pay  her  well  for  her  trouble,  and,  after  some 
demur,  she  consented  to  accompany  me  to  the  spot.  We 
found  it  without  much  difficulty,  when,  dismissing  her,  I  pro- 

25  ceeded  to  examine  the  place.  The  *  castle '  consisted  of  an 
irregular  assemblage  of  cliffs  and  rocks  —  one  of  the  latter 
being  quite  remarkable  for  its  height  as  well  as  for  its  insulated 
and  artificial  appearance.  I  clambered  to  its  apex,  and  then 
felt  much  at  a  loss  as  to  what  should  be  next  done. 

30  "  While  I  was  busied  in  reflection,  my  eyes  fell  on  a  narrow 
ledge  in  the  eastern  face  of  the  rock,  perhaps  a  yard  below 
the  summit  upon  which  I  stood.  This  ledge  projected  about 
eighteen  inches,  and  was  not  more  than  a  foot  wide,  while  a 
niche  in  the  cliff  just  above  it  gave  it  a  rude  resemblance  to 

35  one  of  the  hollow-backed  chairs  used  by  our  ancestors.    I  made 


THE   GOLD-BUG  157 

no  doubt  that  here  was  the  « devil's  seat '  alluded  to  in  the  MS., 
and  now  I  seemed  to  grasp  the  full  secret  of  the  riddle. 

"  The  «  good  glass,'  I  knew,  could  have  reference  to  nothing 
but  a  telescope ;  for  the  word  « glass  '  is  rarely  employed  in  any 
other  sense  by  seamen.    Now  here,  I  at  once  saw,  was  a  tele-    5 
scope  to  be  used,  and  a  definite  point  of  view,  admitting  no 
variation,  from  which  to  use  it.    Nor  did  I  hesitate  to  believe 
that  the  phrases,  « twenty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes,' 
and  'northeast  and  by  north,'  were  intended  as  directions  for 
the  levelling  of  the  glass.    Greatly  excited  by  these  discoveries,  10 
I  hurried  home,  procured  a  telescope,  and  returned  to  the  rock. 

"  I  let  myself  down  to  the  ledge,  and  found  that  it  was 
impossible  to  retain  a  seat  on  it  unless  in  one  particular  posi 
tion.  This  fact  confirmed  my  preconceived  idea.  I  proceeded 
to  use  the  glass.  Of  course,  the  'twenty-one  degrees  and  15 
thirteen  minutes '  could  allude  to  nothing  but  elevation  above 
the  visible  horizon,  since  the  horizontal  direction  was  clearly 
indicated  by  the  words,  '  northeast  and  by  north.'  This  latter 
direction  I  at  once  established  by  means  of  a  pocket-compass ; 
then,  pointing  the  glass  as  nearly  at  an  angle  of  twenty-one  20 
degrees  of  elevation  as  I  could  do  it  by  guess,  I  moved  it 
cautiously  up  or  down,  until  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
circular  rift  or  opening  in  the  foliage  of  a  large  tree  that  over 
topped  its  fellows  in  the  distance.  In  the  centre  of  this  rift  I 
perceived  a  white  spot,  but  could  not,  at  first,  distinguish  25 
what  it  was.  Adjusting  the  focus  of  the  telescope,  I  again 
looked,  and  now  made  it  out  to  be  a  human  skull. 

"On  this  discovery  I  was  so  sanguine  as  to  consider  the 
enigma  solved ;  for  the  phrase  '  main  branch,  seventh  limb, 
east  side,'  could  refer  only  to  the  position  of  the  skull  on  the  3a 
tree,  while  *  shoot  from  the  left  eye  of  the  death's-head ' 
admitted,  also,  of  but  one  interpretation,  in  regard  to  a  search 
for  buried  treasure.  I  perceived  that  the  design  was  to  drop 
a  bullet  from  the  left  eye  of  the  skull,  and  that  a  bee-line,  or, 
in  other  words,  a  straight  line,  drawn  from  the  nearest  point  35 


158  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

of  the  trunk  through  '  the  shot '  (or  the  spot  where  the  bullet 
fell),  and  thence  extended  to  a  distance  of  fifty  feet,  would 
indicate  a  definite  point  —  and  beneath  this  point  I  thought 
it  at  least  possible  that  a  deposit  of  value  lay  concealed." 
5  "  All  this,"  I  said,  "  is  exceedingly  clear,  and,  although 
ingenious,  still  simple  and  explicit.  When  you  left  the  Bishop's 
Hotel,  what  then?" 

"Why,  having  carefully  taken  the  bearings  of  the  tree,  I 
turned  homewards.    The  instant  that  I  left  '  the  devil's  seat,' 

10  however,  the  circular  rift  vanished ;  nor  could  I  get  a  glimpse 
of  it  afterwards,  turn  as  I  would.  What  seems  to  me  the  chief 
ingenuity  in  this  whole  business,  is  the  fact  (for  repeated  experi 
ment  has  convinced  me  it  is  a  fact)  that  the  circular  opening 
in  question  is  visible  from  no  other  attainable  point  of  view 

15  than  that  afforded  by  the  narrow  ledge  on  the  face  of  the  rock. 
"  In  this  expedition  to  the  '  Bishop's  Hotel '  I  had  been 
attended  by  Jupiter,  who  had  no  doubt  observed,  for  some 
weeks  past,  the  abstraction  of  my  demeanor,  and  took  espe 
cial  care  not  to  leave  me  alone.    But  on  the  next  day,  getting 

20  up  very  early,  I  contrived  to  give  him  the  slip,  and  went  into 
the  hills  in  search  of  the  tree.  After  much  toil  I  found  it. 
When  I  came  home  at  night  my  valet  proposed  to  give  me  a 
flogging.  With  the  rest  of  the  adventure  I  believe  you  are  as 
well  acquainted  as  myself." 

25       "I  suppose,"  said  I,  " you  missed  the  spot,  in  the  first  attempt 

at  digging,  through  Jupiter's  stupidity  in  letting  the  bug  fall 

through  the  right  instead  of  through  the  left  eye  of  the  skull." 

"  Precisely.    This  mistake  made  a  difference  of  about  two 

inches  and  a  half  in  the  '  shot ' — that  is  to  say,  in  the  position 

30  of  the  peg  nearest  the  tree ;  and  had  the  treasure  been  beneath 
the  '  shot,'  the  error  would  have  been  of  little  moment ;  but 
'  the  shot,'  together  with  the  nearest  point  of  the  tree,  were 
merely  two  points  for  the  establishment  of  a  line  of  direction  ; 
of  course  the  error,  however  trivial  in  the  beginning,  increased 

35  as  we  proceeded  with  the  line,  and,  by  the   time  we  had  gone 


THE   GOLD-BUG  159 

fifty  feet,  threw  us  quite  off  the  scent.  But  for  my  deep-seated 
convictions  that  treasure  was  here  somewhere  actually  buried, 
we  might  have  had  all  our  labor  in  vain." 

"  I  presume  the  fancy  of  the  skull —  of  letting  fall  a  bullet 
through  the  skull's  eye  —  was  suggested  to  Kidd  by  the  pirat-    5 
ical  flag.    No  doubt  he  felt  a  kind  of  poetical  consistency  in 
recovering  his  money  through  this  ominous  insignium." 

"  Perhaps  so ;  still,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  common 
sense  had  quite  as  much  to  do  with  the  matter  as  poetical 
consistency.  To  be  visible  from  the  devil's  seat,  it  was  neces-  10 
sary  that  the  object,  if  small,  should  be  white ;  and  there  is 
nothing  like  your  human  skull  for  retaining  and  even  increas 
ing  its  whiteness  under  exposure  to  all  vicissitudes  of  weather." 

"But  your  grandiloquence,  and  your  conduct  in  swinging 
the  beetle  —  how  excessively  odd  !    I  was  sure  you  were  mad.  15 
And  why  did  you  insist  on  letting  fall  the  bug,  instead  of  a 
bullet,  from  the  skull?" 

"  Why,  to  be  frank,  I  felt  somewhat  annoyed  by  your  evi 
dent  suspicions  touching  my  sanity,  and  so  resolved  to  punish 
you  quietly,  in  my  own  way,  by  a  little  bit  of  sober  mystifica-  20 
tion.  For  this  reason  I  swung  the  beetle,  and  for  this  reason 
I  let  it  fall  from  the  tree.  An  observation  of  yours  about 
its  great  weight  suggested  the  latter  idea." 

"  Yes,  I  perceive  ;  and  now  there  is  only  one  point  which  puzzles 
me.  What  are  we  to  make  of  the  skeletons  found  in  the  hole  ?  "  25 

"  That  is  a  question  I  am  no  more  able  to  answer  than  your 
self.  There  seems,  however,  only  one  plausible  way  of  account 
ing  for  them  —  and  yet  it  is  dreadful  to  believe  in  such  atrocity 
as  my  suggestion  would  imply.  It  is  clear  that  Kidd  —  if  Kidd 
indeed  secreted  this  treasure,  which  I  doubt  not  —  it  is  clear  30 
that  he  must  have  had  assistance  in  the  labor.  But,  the  worst 
of  this  labor  concluded,  he  may  have  thought  it  expedient  to 
remove  all  participants  in  his  secret.  Perhaps  a  couple  of  blows 
with  a  mattock  were  sufficient,  while  his  coadjutors  were  busy 
in  the  pit ;  perhaps  it  required  a  dozen  —  who  shall  tell?  "  35 


THE  PURLOINED   LETTER 

Nil  sapientiae  odiosius  acumine  nimio. 

SENECA 

At  Paris,  just  after  dark  one  gusty  evening  in  the  autumn  of 
1 8 — ,  I  was  enjoying  the  twofold  luxury  of  meditation  and  a 
meerschaum,  in  company  with  my  friend  C.  Auguste  Dupin,  in 
his  little  back  library,  or  book  closet,  au  troisieme,  No.  33, 
5  Rue  Dunot,  Faubourg  St.  Germain.  For  one  hour  at  least  we 
had  maintained  a  profound  silence ;  while  each,  to  any  casual 
observer,  might  have  seemed  intently  and  exclusively  occupied 
with  the  curling  eddies  of  smoke  that  oppressed  the  atmos 
phere  of  the  chamber.  For  myself,  however,  I  was  mentally 

10  discussing  certain  topics  which  had  formed  matter  for  conver 
sation  between  us  at  an  earlier  period  of  the  evening ;  I  mean 
the  affair  of  the  Rue  Morgue,  and  the  mystery  attending  the 
murder  of  Marie  Roget.  I  looked  upon  it,  therefore,  as  some 
thing  of  a  coincidence,  when  the  door  of  our  apartment  was 

15  thrown  open  and  admitted   our  old   acquaintance,  Monsieur 

G ,  the  Prefect  of  the  Parisian  police. 

We  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome  ;  for  there  was  nearly  half  as 
much  of  the  entertaining  as  of  the  contemptible  about  the  man, 
and  we  had  not  seen  him  for  several  years.  We  had  been  sit- 

20  ting  in  the  dark,  and  Dupin  now  arose  for  the  purpose  of  light 
ing  a  lamp,  but  sat  down  again,  without  doing  so,  upon 

G 's  saying  that  he  had  called  to  consult  us,  or  rather  to 

ask  the  opinion  of  my  friend,  about  some  official  business  which 
had  occasioned  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 

25  "  If  it  is  any  point  requiring  reflection,"  observed  Dupin,  as 
he  forebore  to  enkindle  the  wick,  "  we  shall  examine  it  to 
better  purpose  in  the  dark." 

if*. 


THE   PURLOINED    LETTER  l6l 

"  That  is  another  of  your  odd  notions,"  said  the  Prefect,  who 
had  a  fashion  of  calling  everything  "  odd  "  that  was  beyond  his 
comprehension,  and  thus  lived  amid  an  absolute  legion  of 
"  oddities." 

"  Very  true,"    said  Dupin,  as  he  supplied  his  visitor  with  a    5 
pipe,  and  rolled  towards  him  a  comfortable  chair. 

"And  what  is  the  difficulty  now?"  I  asked.  "Nothing 
more  in  the  assassination  way,  I  hope?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  nothing  of  that  nature.    The  fact  is,  the  business 
is  very  simple  indeed,  and  I  make  no  doubt  that  we  can  manage  10 
it  sufficiently  well  ourselves ;  but  then  I  thought  Dupin  would 
like  to  hear  the  details  of  it,  because  it  is  so  excessively  odd" 

"  Simple  and  odd,"  said  Dupin. 

"  Why,  yes ;  and  not  exactly  that,  either.    The  fact  is,  we 
have  all  been  a  good  deal  puzzled  because  the  affair  is  so  simple,  15 
and  yet  baffles  us  altogether." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  very  simplicity  of  the  thing  which  puts 
you  at  fault,"  said  my  friend. 

"  What  nonsense  you  do  talk  !  "  replied  the  Prefect,  laughing 
heartily.  20 

"  Perhaps  the  mystery  is  a  little  too  plain,"  said  Dupin. 

"  Oh,  good  Heavens  !  who  ever  heard  of  such  an  idea?  " 

"A  little  too  self-evident." 

"  Ha  !   ha  !   ha  !  —  ha  !  ha  !   ha  !  —  ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  "  roared 
our  visitor,  profoundly  amused.    "  O  Dupin,  you  will  be  the  25 
death  of  me  yet !  " 

"  And  what,  after  all,  is  the  matter  on  hand?  "  I  asked. 

"  Wrhy,  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  the  Prefect,  as  he  gave  a  long, 
steady,  and  contemplative  puff,  and  settled  himself  in  his  chair. 
"  I  will  tell  you  in  a  few  words ;  but,  before  I  begin,  let  me  30 
caution  you  that  this  is  an  affair  demanding  the  greatest 
secrecy,  and  that  I  should  most  probably  lose  the  position  I 
now  hold  were  it  known  that  I  confided  it  to  any  one." 

"Proceed,"  said  I. 

"  Or  not,"  said  Dupin.  35 


162  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

"Well,  then;  I  have  received  personal  information,  from  a 
very  high  quarter,  that  a  certain  document  of  the  last  impor 
tance  has  been  purloined  from  the  royal  apartments.  The 
individual  who  purloined  it  is  known  ;  this  beyond  a  doubt ;  he 
5  was  seen  to  take  it.  It  is  known,  also,  that  it  still  remains  in 
his  possession." 

"  How  is  this  known  ?  "  asked  Dupin. 

"  It  is  clearly  inferred,"  replied  the  Prefect,  "  from  the  nature 

of  the  document,  and  from   the  non-appearance  of  certain 

10  results  which  would  at  once  arise  from  its  passing  out  of  the 

robber's  possession;  that  is  to  say,  from  his  employing  it  as  he 

must  design  in  the  end  to  employ  it." 

"  Be  a  little  more  explicit,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  I  may  venture  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  paper  gives  its 
15  holder  a  certain  power  in  a  certain  quarter  where  such  power 
is  immensely  valuable."  The  Prefect  was  fond  of  the  cant  of 
diplomacy. 

"  Still  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  said  Dupin. 

"No?  well;  the  disclosure  of  the  document  to  a  third 
20  person,  who  shall  be  nameless,  would  bring  in  question  the 
honor  of  a  personage  of  most  exalted  station ;  and  this  fact 
gives  the  holder  of  the  document  an  ascendency  over  the  illus 
trious  personage  whose  honor  and  peace  are  so  jeopardized." 

"But  this  ascendency,"  I  interposed,  "would  depend  upon 
25  the  robber's  knowledge  of  the  loser's  knowledge  of  the  robber. 
Who  would  dare  —  " 

"The  thief,"  said  G ,  "is  the  Minister  D ,  who 

dares  all  things,  those  unbecoming  as  well  as  those  becoming 

a  man.    The  method  of  the  theft  was  not  less  ingenious  than 

30  bold.    The  document  in  question  —  a  letter,  to  be  frank  —  had 

been  received  by  the  personage  robbed  while  alone  in  the 

royal  boudoir.    During  its  perusal  she  was  suddenly  interrupted 

by  the  entrance  of  the  other  exalted  personage,  from  whom 

especially  it  was  her  wish  to  conceal  it.    After  a  hurried  and 

35  vain  endeavor  to  thrust  it  in  a  drawer,  she  was  forced  to  place 


THE    PURLOINED   LETTER  163 

it,  open  as  it  was,  upon  a  table.    The  address,  however,  was 
uppermost,  and,  the  contents  thus  unexposed,  the  letter  escaped 

notice.    At   this  juncture   enters   the   Minister   D .    His 

lynx  eye  immediately  perceives  the  paper,  recognizes  the  hand 
writing  of  the  address,  observes  the  confusion  of  the  personage    5 
addressed,  and  fathoms  her  secret.    After  some  business  trans 
actions,  hurried  through  in  his  ordinary  manner,  he  produces  a. 
letter  somewhat  similiar  to  the  one  in  question,  opens  it,  pre 
tends  to  read  it,  and  then  places  it  in  close  juxtaposition  to 
the  other.    Again  he  converses  for  some  fifteen  minutes  upon  10 
the  public  affairs.    At  length,  in  taking  leave,  he  takes  also 
from  the  table  the  letter  to  which  he  had  no  claim.    Its  right 
ful  owner  saw,  but,  of  course,  dared  not  call  attention  to  the 
act,  in  the  presence  of  the  third  personage,  wrho  stood  at  her 
elbow.    The  Minister  decamped,  leaving  his  own  letter  —  one  15 
of  no  importance — upon  the  table." 

"  Here,  then,"  said  Dupin  to  me,  "  you  have  precisely  what 
you  demand  to  make  the  ascendency  complete  —  the  robber's 
knowledge  of  the  loser's  knowledge  of  the  robber." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Prefect;  "and  the  power  thus  attained  20 
has,  for  some  months  past,  been  wielded,  for  political  pur 
poses,  to  a  very  dangerous  extent.    The  personage  robbed  is 
more   thoroughly  convinced,  every  day,  of  the  necessity   of 
reclaiming  her  letter.     But  this,  of  course,  cannot  be  done 
openly.     In  fine,  driven  to  despair,  she  has  committed  the  25 
matter  to  me." 

"Than  whom,"  said  Dupin,  amid  a  perfect  whirlwind  of 
smoke,  "  no  more  sagacious  agent  could,  I  suppose,  be  desired, 
or  even  imagined." 

"You  flatter  me,"  replied  the  Prefect;  "but  it  is  possible  30 
that  some  such  opinion  may  have  been  entertained." 

"  It  is  clear,"  said  I,  "as  you  observe,  that  the  letter  is  still 
in  possession  of  the  Minister ;  since  it  is  this  possession,  and 
not  any  employment  of  the  letter,  which  bestows  the  power. 
With  the  employment  the  power  departs."  35 


164  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

"True,"  said  G ;  "and  upon  this  conviction  I  pro 
ceeded.  My  first  care  was  to  make  thorough  search  of  the 
Minister's  Hotel ;  and  here  my  chief  embarrassment  lay  in  the 
necessity  of  searching  without  his  knowledge.  Beyond  all 
5  things,  I  have  been  warned  of  the  danger  which  would  result 
from  giving  him  reason  to  suspect  our  design." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "you  are  quite  aufaitva.  these  investigations. 
The  Parisian  police  have  done  this  thing  often  before." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  and  for  this  reason  I  did  not  despair.    The  habits 
10  of  the  Minister  gave  me,  too,  a  great  advantage.    He  is  fre 
quently  absent  from  home  all  night.    His  servants  are  by  no 
means  numerous.    They  sleep  at  a  distance  from  their  master's 
apartment,  and,  being  chiefly  Neapolitans,  are  readily  made 
drunk.    I  have  keys,  as  you  know,  with  which  I  can  open  any 
15  chamber  or  cabinet  in  Paris.    For  three  months  a  night  has 
not  passed,  during  the  greater  part  of  which  I  have  not  been 

engaged,   personally,   in  ransacking  the   D Hotel.    My 

honor  is  interested,  and,  to  mention  a  great  secret,  the  reward 
is  enormous.  So  I  did  not  abandon  the  search  until  I  had 
20  become  fully  satisfied  the  thief  is  a  more  astute  man  than 
myself.  I  fancy  that  I  have  investigated  every  nook  and 
corner  of  the  premises  in  which  it  is  possible  that  the  paper 
can  be  concealed." 

"  But  is  it  not  possible,"  I  suggested,  "that  although  the  letter 
25  may  be  in  possession  of  the  Minister,  as  it  unquestionably  is,  he 
may  have  concealed  it  elsewhere  than  upon  his  own  premises?  " 
"This  is  barely  possible,"  said  Dupin.    "The  present  pecu 
liar  condition   of   affairs   at    court,   and    especially   of    those 

intrigues  in  which  D is  known  to  be  involved,  would 

30  render  the  instant  availability  of  the  document  —  its  suscepti 
bility  of  being  produced  at  a  moment's  notice  —  a  point  of 
nearly  equal  importance  with  its  possession." 
"  Its  susceptibility  of  being  produced?  "  said  I. 
"That  is  to  say,  of  being  destroyed"  said  Dupin. 
35       "True,"  I  observed;  "the  paper  is  clearly  then  upon  the 


THE    PURLOINED    LETTER  165 

premises.    As  for  its  being  upon  the  person  of  the  Minister,  we 
may  consider  that  as  out  of  the  question." 

"  Entirely,"  said  the  Prefect.  "  He  has  been  twice  waylaid, 
as  if  by  footpads,  and  his  person  rigorously  searched  under  my 
own  inspection."  5 

"  You  might  have  spared  yourself  this  trouble,"  said  Dupin. 

"  D ,  I  presume,  is  not  altogether  a  fool,  and,  if  not,  must 

have  anticipated  these  way  lay  ings,  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  Not  altogether  a   fool,"  said  G ,  "  but   then  he  's  a    • 

poet,  which  I  take  to  be  only  one  remove  from  a  fool."  10 

"  True,"  said  Dupin,  after  a  long  and  thoughtful  whiff  from 
his  meerschaum,  "  although  I  have  been  guilty  of  certain  dog 
gerel  myself." 

"  Suppose  you  detail,"  said  I, "  the  particulars  of  your  search." 

"Why,  the  fact  is,  we  took  our  time,   and   we   searched  15 
everywhere.    I  have  had  long  experience  in  these  affairs.    I 
took  the  entire  building,  room  by  room,  devoting  the  nights 
of  a  whole  week  to  each.    We  examined,  first,  the  furniture  of 
each  apartment.    We  opened  every  possible  drawer;  and  I 
presume  you  know  that,  to  a  properly  trained  police  agent,  20 
such  a  thing  as  a  secret  drawer  is  impossible.    Any  man  is  a 
dolt  who  permits  a  '  secret '  drawer  to  escape  him  in  a  search 
of  this  kind.    The  thing  is  so  plain.  There  is  a  certain  amount 
of  bulk  —  of  space  —  to  be  accounted  for  in  every  cabinet. 
Then  we  have  accurate  rules.    The  fiftieth  part  of  a  line  could  25 
not  escape  us.    After  the  cabinets  we  took  the  chairs.    The 
cushions  we  probed  with  the  fine  long  needles  you  have  seen 
me  employ.    From  the  tables  we  removed  the  tops." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Sometimes  the  top  of  a  table,  or  other  similarly  arranged  30 
piece  of  furniture,  is  removed  by  the  person  wishing  to  con 
ceal  an  article  ;  then  the  leg  is  excavated,  the  article  deposited 
within  the  cavity,  and  the  top  replaced.    The  bottoms  and 
tops  of  bedposts  are  employed  in  the  same  way." 

"But  could  not  the  cavity  be  detected  by  sounding?  "  I  asked.  35 


166  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

"  By  no  means,  if,  when  the  article  is  deposited,  a  sufficient 
wadding  of  cotton  be  placed  around  it.  Besides,  in  our  case 
we  were  obliged  to  proceed  without  noise." 

"  But  you  could  not  have  removed  —  you  could  not  have 

5  taken  to  pieces  all  articles  of  furniture  in  which  it  would  have 

been  possible  to  make  a  deposit  in  the  manner  you  mention. 

A  letter  may  be  compressed  into  a  thin  spiral  roll,  not  differing 

much  in  shape  or  bulk  from  a  large  knitting-needle,  and  in 

this  form  it  might  be  inserted  into  the  rung  of  a  chair,  for 

i3  example.    You  did  not  take  to  pieces  all  the  chairs?  " 

"Certainly  not;  but  we  did  better  —  we  examined  the 
rungs  of  every  chair  in  the  Hotel,  and  indeed,  the  jointings  of 
every  description  of  furniture,  by  the  aid  of  a  most  powerful 
microscope.  Had  there  been  any  traces  of  recent  disturbance 
15  we  should  not  have  failed  to  detect  it  instantly.  A  single 
grain  of  gimlet-dust,  for  example,  would  have  been  as  obvious 
as  an  apple.  Any  disorder  in  the  gluing  —  any  unusual  gaping 
in  the  joints  —  would  have  sufficed  to  insure  detection." 

"  I  presume  you  looked  to  the  mirrors,  between  the  boards 
20  and  the  plates,  and  you  probed  the  beds  and  the  bedclothes, 
as  well  as  the  curtains  and  carpets?  " 

"  That,  of  course ;  and  when  we  had  absolutely  completed 
every  particle  of  the  furniture  in  this  way,  then  we  examined 
the  house  itself.  We  divided  its  entire  surface  into  compart- 
25  ments,  which  we  numbered,  so  that  none  might  be  missed; 
then  we  scrutinized  each  individual  square  inch  throughout 
the  premises,  including  the  two  houses  immediately  adjoining, 
with  the  microscope,  as  before." 

"The  two  houses  adjoining!"  I  exclaimed;  "you  must 
30  have  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble." 

"  We  had ;  but  the  reward  offered  is  prodigious." 

"You  include  the  grounds  about  the  houses?  " 

"All  the  grounds  are  paved  with  bricks.  They  gave  us 
comparatively  little  trouble.  We  examined  the  moss  between 
35  the  bricks,  and  found  it  undisturbed." 


THE    PURLOINED    LETTER  167 

"  You  looked  among  D  —   — 's  papers,  of  course,  and  into 
the  books  of  the  library?  " 

"  Certainly ;  we  opened  every  package  and  parcel ;  we  not 
only  opened  every  book,  but  we  turned  over  every  leaf  in  each 
volume,  not  contenting  ourselves  with  a  mere  shake,  according  5 
to  the  fashion  of  some  of  our  police  officers.  We  also  measured 
the  thickness  of  every  book-cover,  with  the  most  accurate 
admeasurement,  and  applied  to  each  the  most  jealous  scrutiny 
of  the  microscope.  Had  any  of  the  bindings  been  recently 
meddled  with,  it  would  have  been  utterly  impossible  that  the  10 
fact  should  have  escaped  observation.  Some  five  or  six  vol 
umes,  just  from  the  hands  of  the  binder,  we  carefully  probed, 
longitudinally,  with  the  needles." 

"  You  explored  the  floors  beneath  the  carpets?  " 

"Beyond  doubt.    We  removed  every  carpet,  and  examined  15 
the  boards  with  the  microscope." 

"  And  the  paper  on  the  walls?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  looked  into  the  cellars?  " 

"We  did."  20 

"Then,"  I  said,  "you  have  been  making  a  miscalculation, 
and  the  letter  is  not  upon  the  premises,  as  you  suppose." 

"  I  fear  you  are  right  there,"  said  the  Prefect.     "And  now, 
Dupin,  what  would  you  advise  me  to  do?  " 

"To  make  a  thorough  re-search  of  the  premises."  25 

"  That  is  absolutely  needless,"  replied  G — .    "I  am  not  more 
sure  that  I  breathe  than  I  am  that  the  letter  is  not  at  the  Hotel." 

"  I  have  no  better  advice  to  give  you,"  said  Dupin. 

"  You  have,  of  course,  an  accurate  description  of  the  letter?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  —  And  here  the  Prefect,  producing  a  memoran-  30 
dum-book,  proceeded  to  read  aloud  a  minute  account  of  the 
internal,  and  especially  of  the  external  appearance  of  the  miss 
ing  document.  Soon  after  finishing  the  perusal  of  this  de 
scription,  he  took  his  departure,  more  entirely  depressed  in 
spirits  than  I  had  ever  known  the  good  gentleman  before.  35 


168  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

In  about  a  month  afterwards  he  paid  us  another  visit,  and  found 
us  occupied  very  nearly  as  before.  He  took  a  pipe  and  a  chair 
and  entered  into  some  ordinary  conversation.  At  length  I  said,  — 

"Well,  but,  G ,  what  of  the  purloined  letter?    I  pre- 

5  sume  you  have  at  last  made  up  your  mind  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  overreaching  the  Minister?  " 

"Confound  him,  say  I — yes;  I  made  the  re-examination, 
however,  as  Dupin  suggested  —  but  it  was  all  labor  lost,  as  I 
knew  it  would  be." 

10       "  How  much  was  the  reward  offered,  did  you  say?"  asked 
Dupin. 

"  Why,  a  very  great  deal  —  a  very  liberal  reward  —  I  don't 
like  to  say  how  much,  precisely;  but  one  thing  I  will  say, 
that  I  would  n't  mind  giving  my  individual  check  for  fifty 
15  thousand  francs  to  any  one  who  could  obtain  me  that  letter. 
The  fact  is,  it  is  becoming  of  more  and  more  importance  every 
day;  and  the  reward  has  been  lately  doubled.  If  it  were 
trebled,  however,  I  could  do  no  more  than  I  have  done." 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Dupin,  drawlingly,  between  the  whiffs  of 

20  his    meerschaum,    "  I    really  —  think,   G ,  you    have    not 

exerted  yourself  —  to  the  utmost  in  this  matter.    You  might 
—  do  a  little  more,  I  think,  eh?  " 

"  How?  —  in  what  way?  " 

"  Why  —  puff,    puff  —  you    might  —  puff,    puff  —  employ 
25  counsel  in  the  matter,  eh  ?  —  puff,  puff,  puff.    Do  you  remem 
ber  the  story  they  tell  of  Abernethy?  " 

"  No  ;  hang  Abernethy  !  " 

"To  be  sure  !  hang  him  and  welcome.  But,  once  upon  a  time, 

a  certain  rich  miser  conceived  the  design  of  sponging  upon  this 

30  Abernethy  for  a  medical  opinion.    Getting  up,  for  this  purpose, 

an  ordinary  conversation  in  a  private  company,  he  insinuated 

his  case  to  the  physician,  as  that  of  an  imaginary  individual. 

" '  We  will  suppose,'  said  the  miser,  « that  his  symptoms  are 
such  and  such ;  now,  doctor,  what  would  you  have  directed 
35  him  to  take  ?  ' 


THE   PURLOINED    LETTER  169 

"  'Take  !  '  said  Abernethy,  'why,  take  advice,  to  be  sure.'  " 

"  But,"  said  the  Prefect,  a  little  discomposed,  "I  am  perfectly 
willing  to  take  advice,  and  to  pay  for  it.  I  would  really  give  fifty 
thousand  francs  to  any  one  who  would  aid  me  in  the  matter." 

"In  that  case,"  replied  Dupin,  opening  a  drawer,  and  pro-    5 
ducing  a  check-book,  "  you  may  as  well  fill  me  up  a  check  for 
the  amount  mentioned.    When  you  have  signed  it,  I  will  hand 
you  the  letter." 

I  was  astounded.  The  Prefect  appeared  absolutely  thunder- 
stricken.  For  some  minutes  he  remained  speechless  and  10 
motionless,  looking  incredulously  at  my  friend  with  open 
mouth,  and  eyes  that  seemed  starting  from  their  sockets; 
then,  apparently  recovering  himself  in  some  measure,  he 
seized  a  pen,  and  after  several  pauses  and  vacant  stares, 
finally  filled  up  and  signed  a  check  for  fifty  thousand  francs,  15 
and  handed  it  across  the  table  to  Dupin.  The  latter  examined 
it  carefully  and  deposited  it  in  his  pocketbook ;  then,  unlock 
ing  an  escritoire,  took  thence  a  letter  and  gave  it  to  the  Pre 
fect.  This  functionary  grasped  it  in  a  perfect  agony  of  joy, 
opened  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  its  20 
contents,  and  then,  scrambling  and  struggling  to  the  door, 
rushed  at  length  unceremoniously  from  the  room  and  from 
the  house,  without  having  uttered  a  syllable  since  Dupin  had 
requested  him  to  fill  up  the  check. 

When  he  had  gone,  my  friend  entered  into  some  explanations.  25 

"  The  Parisian  police,"  he  said,  "  are  exceedingly  able  in 
their  way.  They  are  persevering,  ingenious,  cunning,  and 
thoroughly  versed  in  the  knowledge  which  their  duties  seem 

chiefly  to  demand.    Thus,  when  G detailed   to  us   his 

mode  of  searching  the  premises  at  the  Hotel  D ,  I  felt  30 

entire  confidence  in  his  having  made  a  satisfactory  investiga 
tion —  so  far  as  his  labors  extended." 

"  So  far  as  his  labors  extended?  "  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dupin.  "  The  measures  adopted  were  not  only 
the  best  of  their  kind,  but  carried  out  to  absolute  perfection.  35 


170  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

Had  the  letter  been  deposited  within  the  range  of  their  search, 
these  fellows  would,  beyond  a  question,  have  found  it." 

I  merely  laughed  —  but  he  seemed  quite  serious  in  all  that 
he  said. 

5  "  The  measures,  then,"  he  continued,  "  were  good  in  their 
kind,  and  well  executed ;  their  defect  lay  in  their  being  inap 
plicable  to  the  case,  and  to  the  man.  A  certain  set  of  highly 
ingenious  resources  are,  with  the  Prefect,  a  sort  of  Procrus 
tean  bed  to  which  he  forcibly  adapts  his  designs.  But  he 

10  perpetually  errs  by  being  too  deep  or  too  shallow,  for  the 
matter  in  hand  ;  and  many  a  schoolboy  is  a  better  reasoner 
than  he.  I  knew  one  about  eight  years  of  age,  whose  success 
at  guessing  in  the  game  of  '  even  and  odd '  attracted  universal 
admiration.  This  game  is  simple,  and  is  played  with  marbles. 

15  One  player  holds  in  his  hand  a  number  of  these  toys,  and 
demands  of  another  whether  that  number  is  even  or  odd.  If 
the  guess  is  right,  the  guesser  wins  one ;  if  wrong,  he  loses 
one.  The  boy  to  whom  I  allude  won  all  the  marbles  of  the 
school.  Of  course  he  had  some  principle  of  guessing;  and 

20  this  lay  in  mere  observation  and  admeasurement  of  the  astute 
ness  of  his  opponents.  For  example,  an  arrant  simpleton  is 
his  opponent,  and,  holding  up  his  closed  hand  asks,  '  Are  they 
even  or  odd?'  Our  schoolboy  replies,  'odd,'  and  loses;  but 
upon  the  second  trial  he  wins,  for  he  then  says  to  himself, 

25  'the  simpleton  had  them  even  upon  the  first  trial,  and  his 
amount  of  cunning  is  just  sufficient  to  make  him  have  them 
odd  upon  the  second  ;  I  will  therefore  guess  odd  ; '  he  guesses 
odd,  and  wins.  Now,  with  a  simpleton  a  degree  above  the 
first  he  would  have  reasoned  thus :  '  This  fellow  finds  that  in 

30  the  first  instance  I  guessed  odd,  and,  in  the  second,  he  will 
propose  to  himself,  upon  the  first  impulse,  a  simple  variation 
from  even  to  odd,  as  did  the  first  simpleton ;  but  then  a  sec 
ond  thought  will  suggest  that  this  is  too  simple  a  variation, 
and  finally  he  will  decide  upon  putting  it  even  as  before.  I 

35  will  therefore  guess  even ; '  he  guesses  even,  and  wins.     Now 


THE   PURLOINED    LETTER  171 

this  mode  of  reasoning  in  the  schoolboy,  whom  his  fellows 
term  'lucky,'  —  what,  in  its  last  analysis,  is  it?" 

"It  is  merely,"  I  said,  uan  identification  of  the  reasoner's 
intellect  with  that  of  his  opponent." 

"It  is,"  said  Dupin ;   "  and,  upon  inquiring  of  the  boy  by    5 
what  means  he  effected  the  thorough  identification  in  which 
his  success  consisted,  I  received  answer  as  follows  :  '  When  1 
wish  to  find  out  how  wise,  or  how  stupid,  or  how  good,  or 
how    wicked    is    any  one,   or  what  are  his   thoughts  at  the 
moment,  I  fashion  the  expression  of  my  face,  as  accurately  as  10 
possible,  in  accordance  with  the  expression  of  his,  and  then 
wait  to  see  what  thoughts  or  sentiments  arise  in  my  mind  or 
heart,  as  if  to  match  or  correspond  with  the  expression.'   This 
response  of  the  schoolboy  lies  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  spuri 
ous  profundity  which  has  been  attributed  to  Rochefoucauld,  15 
to  La  Bruyere,  to  Machiavelli,  and  to  Campanella." 

"  And  the  identification,"  I  said,  "  of  the  reasoner's  intel 
lect  with  that  of  his  opponent,  depends,  if  I  understand  you 
aright,  upon  the  accuracy  with  which  the  opponent's  intellect 
is  admeasured."  20 

"  For  its  practical  value  it  depends  upon  this,"  replied 
Dupin,  "  and  the  Prefect  and  his  cohort  fail  so  frequently, 
first,  by  default  of  this  identification,  and,  secondly,  by  ill- 
admeasurement,  or  rather  through  non-admeasurement,  of  the 
intellect  with  which  they  are  engaged.  They  consider  only  25 
their  own  ideas  of  ingenuity ;  and,  in  searching  for  anything 
hidden,  advert  only  to  the  modes  in  which  they  would  have 
hidden  it.  They  are  right  in  this  much  —  that  their  own 
ingenuity  is  a  faithful  representative  of  that  of  the  mass :  but 
when  the  cunning  of  the  individual  felon  is  diverse  in  character  30 
from  their  own,  the  felon  foils  them,  of  course.  This  always 
happens  when  it  is  above  their  own,  and  very  usually  when  it 
is  below.  They  have  no  variation  of  principle  in  their  investi 
gations;  at  best,  when  urged  by  some  unusual  emergency  — 
by  some  extraordinary  reward  —  they  extend  or  exaggerate  35 


1/2  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

their  old  modes  of  practice,  without  touching  their  principles. 

What,  for  example,  in  this  case  of  D ,  has  been  done  to 

vary  the  principle  of  action?  What  is  all  this  boring,  and 
probing,  and  sounding,  and  scrutinizing  with  the  microscope, 
5  and  dividing  the  surface  of  the  building  into  registered  square 
inches  —  what  is  it  all  but  an  exaggeration  of  the  application 
of  the  one  principle  or  set  of  principles  of  search,  which  are 
based  upon  the  one  set  of  notions  regarding  human  ingenuity, 
to  which  the  Prefect,  in  the  long  routine  of  his  duty,  has  been 

10  accustomed?  Do  you  not  see  he  has  taken  it  for  granted  that 
all  men  proceed  to  conceal  a  letter,  —  not  exactly  in  a  gimlet- 
hole  bored  in  a  chair  leg  —  but,  at  least,  in  some  out-of-the- 
way  hole  or  corner  suggested  by  the  same  tenor  of  thought 
which  would  urge  a  man  to  secrete  a  letter  in  a  gimlet-hole 

15  bored  in  a  chair-leg?  And  do  you  not  see,  also,  that  such 
recherches  nooks  for  concealment  are  adapted  only  for  ordi 
nary  occasions  and  would  be  adopted  only  by  ordinary  intel 
lects  ;  for,  in  all  cases  of  concealment,  a  disposal  of  the  article 
concealed  —  a  disposal  of  it  in  this  recherche  manner  —  is, 

20  in  the  very  first  instance,  presumable  and  presumed ;  and 
thus  its  discovery  depends,  not  at  all  upon  the  acumen,  but 
altogether  upon  the  mere  care,  patience,  and  determination 
of  the  seekers ;  and  where  the  case  is  of  importance  —  or, 
what  amounts  to  the  same  thing  in  policial  eyes,  when  the 

25  reward  is  of  magnitude  —  the  qualities  in  question  have  never 
been  known  to  fail.  You  will  now  understand  what  I  meant 
in  suggesting  that,  had  the  purloined  letter  been  hidden  any 
where  within  the  limits  of  the  Prefect's  examination  —  in 
other  words,  had  the  principle  of  its  concealment  been  com- 

30  prehended  within  the  principles  of  the  Prefect  —  its  discovery 
would  have  been  a  matter  altogether  beyond  question.  This 
functionary,  however,  has  been  thoroughly  mystified ;  and  the 
remote  source  of  his  defeat  lies  in  the  supposition  that  the 
Minister  is  a  fool,  because  he  has  acquired  renown  as  a  poet. 

35  All  fools  are  poets ;   this  the  Prefect  feels ;  and  he  is  merely 


THE    PURLOINED   LETTER  173 

guilty  of  a  non  distributio  medii  in  thence  inferring  that  all 
poets  are  fools." 

"  But  is  this  really  the  poet?"  I  asked.    "There  are  two 
brothers,    I    know ;    and   both   have    attained    reputation    in 
letters.    The  Minister,  I  believe,  has  written  learnedly  on  the    5 
Differential  Calculus.    He  is  a  mathematician,  and  no  poet." 

"  You  are  mistaken  ;  I  know  him  well ;  he  is  both.  As  poet 
and  mathematician,  he  would  reason  well ;  as  mere  mathemati 
cian,  he  could  not  have  reasoned  at  all,  and  thus  would  have 
been  at  the  mercy  of  the  Prefect."  10 

''You  surprise  me,"  I  said,  "by  these  opinions,  which  have 
been  contradicted  by  the  voice  of  the  world.  You  do  not  mean 
to  set  at  naught  the  well-digested  idea  of  centuries.  The 
mathematical  reason  has  long  been  regarded  as  the  reason  par 
excellence"  15 

"  *  Il-y-a  a  parierj  "  replied  Dupin,  quoting  from  Chamfort, 
"  '  que  toute  idee  publique,  toute  convention  re$ue,  est  une  sottise, 
car  elle  a  convenu\  au  plus  grand  nombre?  The  mathemati 
cians,  I  grant  you,  have  done  their  best  to  promulgate  the 
popular  error  to  which  you  allude,  and  which  is  none  the  less  20 
an  error  for  its  promulgation  as  truth.  With  an  art  worthy  a 
better  cause,  for  example,  they  have  insinuated  the  term 
'  analysis '  into  application  to  algebra.  The  French  are  the 
originators  of  this  particular  deception  ;  but  if  a  term  is  of  any 
importance  —  if  words  derive  any  value  from  applicability  —  25 
then  *  analysis  '  conveys  *  algebra,'  about  as  much  as,  in  Latin, 
'  ambitus  '  implies  '  ambition,'  '  religioj  '  religion,'  or  '  homines 
honesti?  a  set  of  honorable  men." 

"  You  have  a  quarrel  on  hand,  I  see,"  said  I,  "  with  some  of 
the  algebraists  of  Paris ;  but  proceed."  30 

"  I  dispute  the  availability,  and  thus  the  value,  of  that  reason 
which  is  cultivated  in  any  especial  form  other  than  the  abstractly 
logical.  I  dispute,  in  particular,  the  reason  educed  by  mathe 
matical  study.  The  mathematics  are  the  science  of  form  and 
quantity;  mathematical  reasoning  is  merely  logic  applied  to  35 


174  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

observation  upon  form  and  quantity.  The  great  error  lies  in 
supposing  that  even  the  truths  of  what  is  called  pure  algebra 
are  abstract  or  general  truths.  And  this  error  is  so  egregious 
that  I  am  confounded  at  the  universality  with  which  it  has 
5  been  received.  Me  thematical  axioms  are  not  axioms  of  general 
truth.  What  is  true  of  relation  —  of  form  and  quantity  —  is 
often  grossly  false  in  regard  to  morals,  for  example.  In  this 
latter  science  it  is  very  usually  untrue  that  the  aggregated 
parts  are  equal  to  the  whole.  In  chemistry  also  the  axiom 

10  fails.  In  the  consideration  of  motive  it  fails ;  for  two  motives, 
each  of  a  given  value,  have  not,  necessarily,  a  value  when 
united,  equal  to  the  sum  of  their  values  apart.  There  are 
numerous  other  mathematical  truths  which  are  only  truths 
within  the  limits  of  relation.  But  the  mathematician  argues, 

15  from  his  finite  truths,  through  habit,  as  if  they  were  of  an 
absolutely  general  applicability  —  as  the  world  indeed  imagines 
them  to  be.  Bryant,  in  his  very  learned  '  Mythology,'  mentions 
an  analogous  source  of  error,  when  he  says  that  *  although  the 
Pagan  fables  are  not  believed,  yet  we  forget  ourselves  continu- 

20  ally,  and  make  inferences  from  them  as  existing  realities.' 
With  the  algebraists,  however,  who  are  Pagans  themselves,  the 
'  Pagan  fables  '  are  believed,  and  the  inferences  are  made,  not 
so  much  through  lapse  of  memory,  as  through  an  unaccountable 
addling  of  the  brains.  In  short,  I  never  yet  encountered  the 

25  mere  mathematician  who  could  be  trusted  out  of  equal  roots, 
or  one  who  did  not  clandestinely  hold  it  as  a  point  of  his  faith 
that  x2  +  px  was  absolutely  and  unconditionally  equal  to  q. 
Say  to  one  of  these  gentlemen,  by  way  of  experiment,  if  you 
please,  that  you  believe  occasions  may  occur  where  xz  -f  px  is 

30  not  altogether  equal  to  q,  and,  having  made  him  understand 
what  you  mean,  get  out  of  his  reach  as  speedily  as  convenient, 
for,  beyond  doubt,  he  will  endeavor  to  knock  you  down. 

"  I  mean  to  say,"  continued  Dupin,  while  I  merely  laughed 
at  his  last  observations,  "  that  if  the  Minister  had  been  no  more 

35  than  a  mathematician,  the  Prefect  would  have  been  under  no 


THE   PURLOINED   LETTER  175 

necessity  of  giving  me  this  check.  I  knew  him,  however,  as 
both  mathematician  and  poet,  and  my  measures  were  adapted 
to  his  capacity,  with  reference  to  the  circumstances  by  which 
he  was  surrounded.  I  knew  him  as  courtier,  too,  and  as  a  bold 
intriguant.  Such  a  man,  I  considered,  could  not  fail  to  be  5 
aware  of  the  ordinary  policial  modes  of  action.  He  could  not 
have  failed  to  anticipate  —  and  events  have  proved  that  he 
did  not  fail  to  anticipate  —  the  waylayings  to  which  he  was 
subjected.  He  must  have  foreseen,  I  reflected,  the  secret 
investigations  of  his  premises.  His  frequent  absences  from  10 
home  at  night,  which  were  hailed  by  the  Prefect  as  certain  aids 
to  his  success,  I  regarded  only  as  ruses,  to  afford  opportunity 
for  thorough  search  to  the  police,  and  thus  the  sooner  to 

impress  them  with  the  conviction  to  which  G ,  in  fact,  did 

finally  arrive  —  the  conviction  that  the  letter  was  not  upon  the  15 
premises.    I  felt,  also,  that  the  whole  train  of  thought,  which  I 
was  at  some  pains  in  detailing  to  you  just  now,  concerning  the 
invariable  principle  of  policial  action  in  searches  for  articles 
concealed  —  I   felt   that   this  whole   train  of   thought  would 
necessarily  pass  through  the  mind  of  the  Minister.    It  would  20 
imperatively  lead  him  to  despise  all  the  ordinary  nooks  of  con 
cealment.    He  could  not,  I  reflected,  be  so  weak  as  not  to  see 
that  the  most  intricate  and  remote  recess  of  his  Hotel  would  be 
as  open  as  his  commonest  closets  to  the  eyes,  to  the  probes,  to 
the  gimlets,  and  to  the  microscopes  of  the  Prefect.    I  saw,  in  25 
fine,  that  he  would  be  driven,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  simpli 
city,  if  not  deliberately  induced  to  it  as  a  matter  of  choice. 
You  will   remember,   perhaps,   how  desperately   the   Prefect 
laughed  when  I  suggested,  upon  our  first  interview,  that  it  was 
just  possible  this  mystery  troubled  him  so  much  on  account  of  30 
its  being  so  very  self-evident." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  remember  his  merriment  well.    I  really 
thought  he  would  have  fallen  into  convulsions." 

"The  material  world,"  continued   Dupin,  "abounds  with 
very  strict  analogies  to  the  immaterial ;  and  thus  some  color  of  35 


176  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

truth  has  been  given  to  the  rhetorical  dogma,  that  metaphor, 
or  simile,  may  be  made  to  strengthen  an  argument,  as  well  as 
to  embellish  a  description.  The  principle  of  the  vis  inertia, 
for  example,  seems  to  be  identical  in  physics  and  metaphysics. 

5  It  is  not  more  true  in  the  former,  that  a  large  body  is  with 
more  difficulty  set  in  motion  than  a  smaller  one,  and  that  its 
subsequent  momentum  is  commensurate  with  this  difficulty, 
than  it  is,  in  the  latter,  that  intellects  of  the  vaster  capacity, 
while  more  forcible,  more  constant,  and  more  eventful  in  their 

10  movements  than  those  of  inferior  grade,  are  yet  the  less  readily 
moved,  and  more  embarrassed  and  full  of  hesitation  in  the 
first  few  steps  of  their  progress.  Again  :  have  you  ever  noticed 
which  of  the  street  signs,  over  the  shop-doors,  are  the  most 
attractive  of  attention?  " 

15       "I  have  never  given  the  matter  a  thought,"  I  said. 

"  There  is  a  game  of  puzzles,"  he  resumed,  "  which  is  played 
upon  a  map.  One  party  playing  requires  another  to  find  a 
given  word  —  the  name  of  town,  river,  state,  or  empire  —  any 
word,  in  short,  upon  the  motley  and  perplexed  surface  of  the 

20  chart.  A  novice  in  the  game  generally  seeks  to  embarrass  his 
opponents  by  giving  them  the  most  minutely  lettered  names ; 
but  the  adept  selects  such  words  as  stretch,  in  large  characters, 
from  one  end  of  the  chart  to  the  other.  These,  like  the  over- 
largely  lettered  signs  and  placards  of  the  street,  escape  obser- 

25  vation  by  dint  of  being  excessively  obvious ;  and  here  the 
physical  oversight  is  precisely  analogous  with  the  moral  inappre- 
hension  by  which  the  intellect  suffers  to  pass  unnoticed  those 
considerations  which  are  too  obtrusively  and  too  palpably  self- 
evident.  But  this  is  a  point,  it  appears,  somewhat  above  or  be- 

30  neath  the  understanding  of  the  Prefect.    He  never  once  thought 
it  probable,  or  possible,  that  the  Minister  had  deposited  the  let 
ter  immediately  beneath  the  nose  of  the  whole  world,  by  way 
of  best  preventing  any  portion  of  that  world  from  perceiving  it. 
"  But  the  more  I  reflected  upon  the  daring,  dashing,  and 

35  discriminating  ingenuity  of  D —  — ;  upon  the  fact  that  the 


THE    PURLOINED   LETTER  177 

document  must  always  have  been  at  hand,  if  he  intended  to 
use  it  to  good  purpose ;  and  upon  the  decisive  evidence, 
obtained  by  the  Prefect,  that  it  was  not  hidden  within  the 
limits  of  that  dignitary's  ordinary  search  —  the  more  satisfied  I 
became  that,  to  conceal  this  letter,  the  Minister  had  resorted  5 
to  the  comprehensive  and  sagacious  expedient  of  not  attempt 
ing  to  conceal  it  at  all. 

"  Full  of  these  ideas,  I  prepared  myself  with  a  pair  of  green 
spectacles,  and  called  one  fine  morning,  quite  by  accident,  at 

the   Ministerial   Hotel.    I   found   D at   home,   yawning,  10 

lounging,  and  dawdling,  as  usual,  and  pretending  to  be  in  the 
last  extremity  of  ennui.  He  is,  perhaps,  the  most  really  ener 
getic  human  being  now  alive  —  but  that  is  only  when  nobody 
sees  him. 

"To  be  even  with  him,  I  complained  of  my  weak  eyes,  and  15 
lamented  the  necessity  of  the  spectacles,  under  cover  of  which 
I   cautiously  and   thoroughly  surveyed   the   apartment,  while 
seemingly  intent  only  upon  the  conversation  of  my  host. 

"  I  paid  especial  attention  to  a  large  writing-table  near 
which  he  sat,  and  upon  which  lay  confusedly  some  miscella-  20 
neous  letters  and  other  papers,  with  one  or  two  musical  instru 
ments  and  a  few  books.  Here,  however,  after  a  long  and 
very  deliberate  scrutiny,  I  saw  nothing  to  excite  particular 
suspicion. 

"  At  length  my  eyes,  in  going  the  circuit  of  the  room,  fell  25 
upon  a  trumpery  filigree  card-rack  of  pasteboard,  that  hung 
dangling  by  a  dirty  blue  ribbon  from  a  little  brass  knob  just 
beneath  the  middle  of  the  mantelpiece.  In  this  rack,  which 
had  three  or  four  compartments,  were  five  or  six  visiting  cards 
and  a  solitary  letter.  This  last  was  much  soiled  and  crumpled.  30 
It  was  torn  nearly  in  two,  across  the  middle  —  as  if  a  design, 
in  the  first  instance,  to  tear  it  entirely  up  as  worthless,  had  been 
altered,  or  stayed,  in  the  second.  It  had  a  large  black  seal, 
bearing  the  D cipher  very  conspicuously,  and  was  ad 
dressed,  in  a  diminutive  female  hand,  to  D ,  the  Minister  35 


1/8  SELECTIONS   FROM    POE 

himself.  It  was  thrust  carelessly,  and  even,  as  it  seemed,  con 
temptuously,  into  one  of  the  upper  divisions  of  the  rack. 

"  No  sooner  had  I  glanced  at  this  letter,  than  I  concludea 

it  to  be  that  of  which  I  was  in  search.    To  be  sure,  it  was,  to 

5  all  appearance,  radically  different  from  the  one  of  which  the 

Prefect  had  read  us  so  minute  a  description.     Here  the  seal 

was  large  and  black,  with    the  D cipher;   there  it  was 

small  and  red,  with  the  ducal  arms  of  the  S family.    Here, 

the  address,  to  the   Minister,  was  diminutive  and  feminine ; 

10  there  the  superscription,  to  a  certain  royal  personage,  was 
markedly  bold  and  decided ;  the  size  alone  formed  a  point  of 
correspondence.  But  then,  the  radicalness  of  these  differences, 
which  was  excessive  ;  the  dirt ;  the  soiled  and  torn  condition  of 
the  paper,  so  inconsistent  with  the  true  methodical  habits  of 

15  D ,  and  so  suggestive  of  a  design  to  delude  the  beholdei* 

into  an  idea  of  the  worthlessness  of  the  document ;  these  things, 
together  with  the  hyperobtrusive  situation  of  this  document, 
full  in  the  view  of  every  visitor,  and  thus  exactly  in  accordance 
with  the  conclusions  to  which  I  had  previously  arrived ;  these 

20  things,  I  say,  were  strongly  corroborative  of  suspicion,  in  one 
who  came  with  the  intention  to  suspect. 

"  I  protracted  my  visit  as  long  as  possible,  and,  while  I  main 
tained  a  most  animated  discussion  with  the  Minister,  upon  a 
topic  which  I  knew  well  had  never  failed  to  interest  and 

25  excite  him,  I  kept  my  attention  really  riveted  upon  the  letter. 
In  this  examination,  I  committed  to  memory  its  external 
appearance  and  arrangement  in  the  rack ;  and  also  fell,  at 
length,  upon  a  discovery  which  set  at  rest  whatever  trivial 
doubt  I  might  have  entertained.  In  scrutinizing  the  edges  of 

30  the  paper,  I  observed  them  to  be  more  chafed  than  seemed 
necessary.  They  presented  the  broken  appearance  which  is 
manifested  when  a  stiff  paper,  having  been  once  folded  and 
pressed  with  a  folder,  is  refolded  in  a  reversed  direction,  in 
the  same  creases  or  edges  which  had  formed  the  original  fold. 

35  This  discovery  was  sufficient.    It  was  clear  to  me  that  the  letter 


THE   PURLOINED    LETTER  179 

had  been  turned,  as  a  glove,  inside  out,  re-directed,  and  re- 
sealed.  I  bade  the  Minister  good-morning,  and  took  my  depar 
ture  at  once,  leaving  a  gold  snuff-box  upon  the  table. 

"  The  next  morning  I   called  for  the  snuff-box,  when  we 
resumed,  quite  eagerly,  the  conversation  of  the  preceding  day.    5 
While  thus  engaged,  however,  a  loud  report,  as  if  of  a  pistol, 
was  heard  immediately  beneath  the  windows  of  the  Hotel,  and 
was  succeeded  by  a  series  of  fearful  screams,  and  the  shoutings 

of  a  mob.    D rushed  to  a  casement,  threw  it  open,  an'1 

looked  out.    In  the  meantime,  I  stepped  to  the  card-rack,  tool 
the  letter,  put  it  in  my  pocket,  and  replaced  it  by  a  facsimile 
(so  far  as  regards  externals),  which  I  had  carefully  prepared  at 

my  lodgings  —  imitating  the  D cipher,  very  readily,  by 

means  of  a  seal  formed  of  bread. 

"  The  disturbance  in  the  street  had  been  occasioned  by  the  15 
frantic  behavior  of  a  man  with  a  musket.    He  had  fired  it 
among  a  crowd  of  women  and  children.    It  proved,  however, 
to  have  been  without  ball,  and  the  fellow  was  suffered  to  go 
his  way  as  a  lunatic  or  a  drunkard.    When  he  had  gone,  D — 
came  from  the  window,  whither  I  had  followed  him  imme-  20 
diately  upon  securing  the  object  in  view.    Soon  afterwards  I 
bade  him  farewell.    The  pretended  lunatic  was  a  man  in  my 
own  pay." 

"  But  what  purpose  had  you,"  I  asked,  "  in  replacing  the 
letter  by  a  facsimile?    Would  it  not  have  been  better,  at  the  25 
first  visit,  to  have  seized  it  openly,  and  departed?  " 

"  D ,"  replied   Dupin,  "  is  a  desperate  man,  and  a  man 

of  nerve.  His  Hotel,  too,  is  not  without  attendants  devoted 
to  his  interests.  Had  I  made  the  wild  attempt  you  suggest,  I 
might  never  have  left  the  Ministerial  presence  alive.  The  good  30 
people  of  Paris  might  have  heard  of  me  no  more.  But  I  had 
an  object  apart  from  these  considerations.  You  know  my  poli 
tical  prepossessions.  In  this  matter,  I  act  as  a  partisan  of  the 
lady  concerned.  For  eighteen  months  the  Minister  has  had 
her  in  his  power.  She  has  now  him  in  hers  —  since,  being  35 


180  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

unaware  that  the  letter  is  not  in  his  possession,  he  will  proceed 
with  his  exactions  as  if  it  was.  Thus  will  he  inevitably  commit 
himself,  at  once,  to  his  political  destruction.  His  downfall, too, 
will  not  be  more  precipitate  than  awkward.  It  is  all  very  well 
5  to  talk  about  the  facilis  descensus  Averni ;  but  in  all  kinds  of 
climbing,  as  Catalani  said  of  singing,  it  is  far  more  easy  to  get 
up  than  to  come  down.  In  the  present  instance  I  have  no 
sympathy  —  at  least  no  pity  —  for  him  who  descends.  He  is 
that  monstrum  horrendum,  an  unprincipled  man  of  genius.  I 

10  confess,   however,  that  I  should  like  very   well  to  know  the 
precise  character  of  his  thoughts,  when,  being  defied  by  her 
whom  the  Prefect  terms  '  a  certain  personage,'  he  is  reduced 
to  opening  the  letter  which  I  left  for  him  in  the  card-rack." 
"  How?    Did  you  put  anything  particular  in  it?  " 

1 5       "  Why — it  did  not  seem  altogether  right  to  leave  the  interior 

blank  —  that  would  have  been  insulting.    D ,  at  Vienna 

once,  did  me  an  evil  turn,  which  I  told  him,  quite  good- 
humoredly,  that  I  should  remember.  So,  as  I  knew  he  would  feel 
some  curiosity  in  regard  to  the  identity  of  the  person  who  had 

20  outwitted  him,  I  thought  it  a  pity  not  to  give  him  a  clew.  He 
is  well  acquainted  with  my  MS.,  and  I  just  copied  into  the 
middle  of  the  blank  sheet  the  words  — 

' Un  dessein  si  funeste, 

S'il  n'est  digne  d'Atre'e,  est  digne  de  Thyeste.' 

25  They  are  to  be  found  in  Cre"billon's  Atree" 


NOTES 


The  text  followed  both  for  poems  and  tales  is  that  of  the  Stedman- 
\Voodberry  edition  of  Poe's  Works,  in  which  the  editors  followed,  in 
most  cases,  the  text  of  what  is  known  as  the  "  Lorimer  Graham"  copy 
of  the  edition  of  1845,  containing  marginal  corrections  in  Poe's  own 
hand.  Poe  revised  his  work  frequently  and  sometimes  extensively. 
The  following  notes  show,  in  most  cases,  the  dates  both  of  the  first 
publication  and  of  subsequent  ones.  Familiarity  with  the  Introduction 
to  this  book  will,  in  some  cases,  be  necessary  to  an  understanding  of  the 
notes.  Gayley's  "  Classic  Myths  in  English  Literature  "  (Ginn  &  Com 
pany,  $1.50)  is  the  best  reference  work  of  small  size  for  allusions  to 
mythology,  and  should  be  available. 

Both  poems  and  tales  are  arranged  in  chronological  order. 

POEMS 

SONG   (Page  3) 

Published  in  1827,  1829,  and  1845.  The  poem  is  believed  to  refer  to 
Miss  Royster,  of  Richmond,  with  whom  Poe  was  in  love  as  a  boy  of  six 
teen,  shortly  before  he  entered  the  University  of  Virginia.  The  young 
lady's  father  intercepted  the  correspondence,  and  Miss  Royster  soon 
became  Mrs.  Shelton.  The  blush,  mentioned  in  lines  2,  9,  and  14,  is 
doubtless  intended  to  imply  shame  for  her  desertion.  The  poem  is  com 
monplace,  and  shows  little  that  is  characteristic  of  the  older  Poe. 

SPIRITS   OF   THE    DEAD    (Pages) 

Published  in  1827  as  "Visit  of  the  Dead,"  and  in  1829  and  1839 
tinder  the  above  title.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  this  poem  was 
inspired  by  the  death  of  Mrs.  Stannard  (see  Introduction,  page  xii). 

TO  -   -   (Page  4) 

The  original,  longer  and  addressed  "  To  M ,"  appeared  in  the 

edition  of  1829,  and  was  republished  in  1845. 

181 


1 82  SELECTIONS   FROM   FOE 

ROMANCE   (Pages) 

Printed  as  a  preface  in  1829,  and  as  an  introduction  in  1831  ;  con 
siderably  revised  and  shortened,  it  appeared  in  1843  ancl  l845  as 
"  Romance." 

n.  condor  years.  The  metaphor  implies  a  likeness  of  time  —  the  years 
—  to  a  bird  of  prey.  Cf.  "  condor  wings  "  in  "  The  Conqueror  Worm." 

19.  forbidden  things:  i.e.  "lyre  and  rhyme."    What  is  the  meaning? 

TO  THE   RIVER  (Page  5) 

Published  first  in  1829,  afterwards  in  several  magazines  and  in  the 
edition  of  1845. 

TO  SCIENCE  (Page  6) 

Published  first  in  1829,  this  poem  appeared  in  editions  of  1831  and 
1845,  and  m  magazines.  It  is  a  sonnet,  differing  from  the  Shakespearean 
form  only  in  the  repetition  of  the  rhyme  with  "  eyes." 

9,  10,  12.  In  classical  mythology,  Diana  is  the  moon  goddess,  Hama 
dryad,  a  wood  nymph,  Naiad,  a  water  nymph.  Consult  Gayley's 
"  Classic  Myths."  Explain  the  figures  of  speech. 

13.  Elfin  :  elf,  a  fairy,  from  the  Anglo-Saxon,  refers  especially  to  tiny 
sprites,  fond  of  mischief  and  tricks.    But  there  were  various  kinds  of 
elves,  according  to  the  Norse  mythology.    Consult  Gayley's  "  Classic 
Myths."    Explain  the  figure. 

14.  tamarind-tree  :  a  beautiful,  spreading,  Oriental  tree,  with  pinnate 
leaves  and  showy  racemes  of  yellow  flowers  variegated  with  red.    What 
does  the  line  mean  ? 

TO  HELEN  (Page  7) 

Published  in  1831,  1836,  1841,  1843,  an(^  l&45-  Read  comment  in 
the  Introduction,  pages  xii  and  xxiii. 

2.  Nicaean  barks.  It  is  impossible  to  say  exactly  what  this  allusion 
means.  Professor  W.  P.  Trent  aptly  suggests  that  if  "  wanderer "  in 
line  4  refers  to  Ulysses,  as  seems  likely,  "  Phasacian  "  would  have  been 
the  right  word,  since  the  Phaeacians  did  convey  Ulysses  to  Ithaca.  Poe 
may  have  had  that  idea  in  mind  and  used  the  wrong  word,  or  this  may 
simply  be  a  characteristically  vague  suggestion  of  antiquity.  Point  out 
similar  examples  of  indefinite  suggestion  in  this  poem. 

7.  hyacinth  hair :  a  favorite  term  with  Poe.  In  "  The  Assignation  " 
he  says  of  the  Marchesa  Aphrodite,  "  Her  hair  .  .  .  clustered  round  and 


NOTES          ,  183 

round  her  classical  head,  in  curls  like  those  of  the  young  hyacinth." 
The  hair  of  Ligeia,  in  the  story  of  that  title,  he  calls  "  the  raven-black, 
the  glossy,  the  luxuriant  and  naturally-curling  tresses,  setting  forth  the 
full  force  of  the  Homeric  epithet,  '  hyacinthine.'  " 

8.  Naiad  airs  :  suggestive  of  exquisite  grace.    The  Naiads,  in  classical 
mythology,  are  water  nymphs,  —  lovely  maidens  presiding  over  brooks 
and  fountains. 

9,  10.  Two  of  Poe's  best  and  most  frequently  quoted  lines.    Explain 
the  fitness  of  the  epithets.    Originally  the  lines  read : 

To  the  beauty  of  fair  Greece 
And  the  grandeur  of  old  Rome. 

Is  the  change  an  improvement  ?    Explain. 

14.  Psyche:  the  Greek  word  for  "soul,"  and  also  the  name  of  a 
beautiful  maiden  whom  Cupid  himself  loved  and  wedded.  Read  the 
story  in  Gayley's  "  Classic  Myths." 

ISRAFEL  (Page  7) 

Published  in  editions  of  1831  and  1845,  and  several  times  in  maga 
zines.  See  comment  in  the  Introduction,  page  xxiii.  Poe  derived  the 
quotation  through  Moore's  "  Lalla  Rookh,"  altered  it  slightly,  and  inter 
polated  the  clause,  "  whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute  " ;  it  is  from  Sale's 
"  Preliminary  Discourse  "  to  the  Koran. 

12.  levin,  or  leven  :  an  archaic  word  for  "lightning." 

13.  Pleiads,  or  Pleiades  :  a  group  of  stars  in  the  constellation  Taurus ; 
only  six  stars  of  the  group  are  readily  visible,  but  legend  tells  of  a  sev 
enth,  lost.    Read  the  account  of  the  ancient  myth  in  Gayley's  "  Classic 
Myths." 

23.  skies  :  the  object  of  "  trod." 

26.  Houri :  derived  from  an  Arabian  word  meaning  "  to  have  brilliant 
black  eyes."  It  is  the  name  in  Mohammedan  tradition  for  beautiful 
nymphs  of  Paradise,  who  are  to  be  companions  of  the  pious. 

THE  CITY  IN  THE  SEA  (Page  9) 

Published  in  1831  as  "The  Doomed  City,"  in  1836  as  "The  City 
of  Sin,"  and  several  times  in  1845  under  the  above  title. 

Point  out  examples  of  alliteration. 

1 8.  Babylon-like  walls.  The  walls  of  the  ancient  city  of  Babylon,  on 
the  Euphrates,  were  famous  for  massiveness  and  extent. 


184  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

THE  SLEEPER  (Page  n) 

Published  as  "Irene  "  in  1831  and  1836,  and  as  "The  Sleeper"  in  1843 
and  1845.  The  theme  is  Poe's  favorite,  the  death  of  a  beautiful  young 
woman,  and  the  poem  is  remarkable,  even  among  Poe's,  for  its  melody. 

LENORE  (Page  13) 

Published  as  "A  Paean"  in  1837  and  1836,  and  as  "  Lenore  "  in  1843 
and  1845.  ^  was  mucn  altered  in  its  numerous  revisions. 

1.  broken  is  the  golden  bowl.    See  Ecclesiastes  xii.  6. 

2.  Stygian  river.    The  Styx  was  a  river  of  Hades,  across  which  the 
souls  of  the  dead  had  to  be  ferried. 

3.  Guy  De  Vere :  the  mourning  lover.    It  is  he  who  speaks  in  the 
second  and  fourth  stanzas. 

13.  Peccavimus :  literally,  "we  have  sinned."  This  stanza  is  the 
reply  of  the  false  friends. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  UNREST  (Page  14) 

Published  in  1831  as  "  The  Valley  Nis,"  with  an  obscure  allusion  to 

a  "  Syriac  Tale  " : 

Something  about  Satan's  dart  — 

Something  about  angel  wings  — 
Much  about  a  broken  heart  — 
All  about  unhappy  things : 
But  "  the  Valley  Nis  "  at  best 
Means  "  the  Valley  of  Unrest." 

Later  it  was  published  in  magazines  and  in  the  1845  edition,  revised 
and  improved,  and  transformed  into  a  simple  landscape  picture,  —  one 
of  the  strange,  weird,  unearthly  landscapes  so  characteristic  of  Poe. 

THE  COLISEUM  (Page  15) 

This  poem  was  submitted  in  the  prize  contest  in  Baltimore  in  1833, 
and  would  have  been  successful  but  for  the  fact  that  the  author's  story, 
"  The  Manuscript  Found  in  a  Bottle,"  had  taken  the  first  prize  in  its 
class.  It  was  republished  several  times,  but  not  much  altered.  The 
usual  spelling  is  "  Colosseum."  It  is  very  unlikely  that  Poe  ever  saw 
the  Colosseum,  though  it  is  barely  possible  his  foster  parents  may  have 
taken  him  to  Rome  during  the  English  residence  (see  Introduction, 
page  xii). 


NOTES  185 

13-14.  Apparently  a  reference  to  Jesus,  but  characteristically  vague. 

15-16.  The  ancient  Chaldeans  were  famous  students  of  the  heavens 
and  practiced  fortune  telling  by  the  stars ;  during  the  Middle  Ages 
astrologers  were  commonly  called  "  Chaldeans." 

17.  hero  fell.    Explain  the  allusion.    Read  an  account  of  the  Colos 
seum  in  a  history  or  reference  book. 

18.  mimic  eagle  :  the  eagle  on  the  Roman  standard. 
20.  gilded  hair  :  adorned  with  golden  ornaments. 

26-29.  arcades,  plinths,  shafts,  entablatures,  frieze,  cornices.  Consult 
the  dictionary  and  explain  these  architectural  terms. 

36.  Memnon:  a  gigantic  statue  of  this  Greek  hero  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile  was  said  to  salute  the  rising  sun  with  a  musical  note. 


HYMN  (Page  16) 

Published  in  1835  m  t^ie  ta^e  "  Morella,"  and  several  times  afterward 
in  magazines  and  collections.  As  an  expression  of  simple,  religious  trust 
and  hope,  this  poem  stands  quite  apart  from  all  others  by  Poe. 

TO  ONE  IN  PARADISE  (Page  17) 

Published  in  1835  as  part  of  the  tale  called  "  The  Visionary,"  after 
ward  "The  Assignation";  in  1839  in  a  magazine  under  the  title  "  To 
lanthe  in  Heaven  "  ;  and  several  times  afterward  in  magazines  and  in 
collections.  It  fits  admirably  into  the  story  "  The  Assignation,"  where 
it  contains  this  additional  stanza,  readily  understood  in  its  setting : 

Alas  !  for  that  accursed  time 

They  bore  thee  o'er  the  billow, 
From  Love  to  titled  age  and  crime 

And  an  unholy  pillow  — 
From  me,  and  from  our  misty  clime 

Where  weeps  the  silver  willow. 

TO   F (Page  18) 

Appeared  in  1835  under  the  title  "  To  Mary,"  and  in  1842  and  1843, 
"To  One  Departed."  It  is  not  known  to  whom  these  forms  were 
addressed.  In  1845  il  again  appeared  with  the  above  title,  which  is 
believed  to  refer  to  Mrs.  Frances  Sargent  Osgood,  a  poet  of  the  time, 
whom  Poe  greatly  admired. 


186  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

TO   F  -  S   S.   O  -  D  (Page  18) 

First  appeared  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  (1835)  as  "  Lines 
Written  in  an  Album,"  addressed  to  Eliza  White,  a  young  daughter  of 
the  editor  of  the  Messenger;  in  1839  the  same  lines  were  addressed 
"  To  -  ,"  whose  name  is  unknown  ;  and  in  1845  tney  were  addressed 
mder  the  above  title  to  Mrs.  Osgood  (see  note  on  the  preceding  poem). 

TO  ZANTE  (Page  18) 

Published  in  1837,  1843,  anc*  l&45-  ^n  form  this  is  a  regular  Shake 
spearean  sonnet.  Zante  is  one  of  the  principal  Ionian  islands,  in  ancient 
times  called  Zacynthus.  Again  the  poet  writes  of  a  fair  isle  in  the  sea  ; 
point  out  other  instances.  Note  the  fondness  for  "  no  more,"  and  find 
examples  in  other  poems.  As  usual  with  Poe,  the  thread  of  thought 
is  slight  and  indefinite  ;  apparently  the  beautiful  island  has  become 
"accursed  ground"  because  of  the  death  there  of  the  "maiden  that 
is  no  more." 

i.  fairest  of  all  flowers.  There  is  a  zantewood,  or  satinwood,  but  it 
does  not  take  its  name  from  this  island.  Poe  associated  the  name  of 
the  island  with  the  hyacinth,  but  there  is  no  etymological  connection. 
He  probably  derived  his  fancy  from  a  passage  in  Chateaubriand's 
"  Itineraire  de  Paris  a  Jerusalem,"  page  53. 

13.  hyacinthine  isle  :   a  reference  to  the  flowers  of  the  island  (see 
preceding  note). 

14.  "Isola  d'oro!   Fior  di  Levante  !  "    "Golden  Isle!  Flower  of  the 
Levant  !  "    These  are  Italian  terms  for  Zante  ;  they  occur  in  the  passage 
in  Chateaubriand  referred  to  in  the  note  on  line  i. 

BRIDAL  BALLAD  (Page  19) 

Published  in  1837,  1841,  1845,  anc^  greatly  improved  in  revision.  The 
bride  remembers  her  dead  lover  who  died  in  battle,  and  wonders  fear 
fully  whether  "  the  dead  who  is  forsaken  "  knows  and  is  unhappy. 

SILENCE  (Page  20) 
Published  in  1840,  1843,'  and 


THE  CONQUEROR  WORM  (Page  21) 

Published   in    1843    and    1845.    The    repulsive    imagery    recurs    in 
several  of  the  tales  and  poems,  and  shows  one  of  the  most  morbid 


NOTES  187 

phases  of  Poe's  imagination  (see  Introduction,  page  xxiv).  It  would 
hardly  meet  Poe's  own  test  of  beauty,  but  the  grim  power  of  this 
terrible  picture  is  palpable  enough. 

9.  Mimes :  actors,  who  in  this  case  are  men ;  mankind. 

13.  vast  formless  things  :  doubtless  the  Fates  (consult  Gayley's 
"  Classic  Myths  ")  ;  at  any  rate  beings  who  exercise  the  same  powers. 

15.  condor  wings.  The  condor  is  a  great  vulture  of  South  America  ; 
the  word  here  suggests  the  Fates  preying  on  human  happiness,  health, 
and  life. 

18.  Phantom:  happiness,  or  perhaps  any  object  of  human  desire  or 
ambition. 

DREAM-LAND  (Page  22) 

Published  in  1844  and  1845.  The  P°em  paints  another  of  Poe's 
extraordinary  landscapes. 

3.  Eidolon:  phantom,  specter,  shade. 

6.  ultimate  dim  Thule.  "  Thule  "  was  used  by  the  ancients  to  indi 
cate  extreme  northern  regions;  the  Romans  used  the  phrase  "Ultima 
Thule  "  to  denote  the  most  remote,  unknown  land.  What  does  the 
allusion  signify  here  ? 

THE   RAVEN  (Page  24) 

Published  in  1845  in  various  magazines,  first  in  the  New  York 
Evening  Mirror  of  January  29.  This  is  the  most  famous  if  not  the 
best  of  Poe's  poems.  There  is  a  clear  thread  of  narrative  and  greater 
dramatic  interest  than  in  any  other  of  the  author's  poems.  If  possible, 
read  "  The  Philosophy  of  Composition,"  in  which  Poe  gives  a  remark 
able  account  of  the  composition  of  this  poem,  an  account  which  is  to 
be  accepted,  however,  as  explaining  only  the  mechanical  side  of  the 
work.  This  essay  is  included  in  Cody's  "  Best  Poems  and  Essays " 
(see  Bibliography,  page  xxxi).  Read  the  comment  in  the  Introduction, 
page  xxiv.  Note  the  numerous  alliterations. 

34.  thereat  is.  Was  the  idea  phrased  this  way  for  any  other  purpose 
than  to  make  a  rhyme  ?  Is  it  artistic  ? 

38.  Raven.  Read  an  account  of  the  bird  in  a  natural  history  or  an 
encyclopedia ;  it  is  frequently  mentioned  in  English  literature  as  a  bird 
of  ill  omen. 

41.  Pallas:  Minerva,  goddess  of  wisdom.  Consult  Gayley's  "Clas 
sic  Myths."  Is  a  bust  of  Pallas  appropriate  for  a  library  ? 

47.  Plutonian :  from  Pluto,  god  of  the  underworld. 


188  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

64,  65.  burden  :  thought  or  theme. 

76-77-  gloated  .  .  .  gloating.  It  is  impossible  to  say  just  what  is 
suggested.  It  is  characteristically  vague.  Find  other  examples  in  this 
poem. 

80.  tinkled  on  the  tufted  floor.   Not  very  easy  to  imagine.   In  "  Ligeia," 
Poe  speaks  of  "  carpets  of  tufted  gold,"  apparently  meaning  fabrics  of 
very  thick  and  rich  material.    Perhaps  we  may  think  of  the  tinkling  as 
proceeding  from  tiny  bells. 

81.  "Wretch,"  etc.    The  lover  addresses  himself. 

82.  nepenthe  :  a  name  given  in  Homer's  "  Odyssey  "  to  a  drug  offered 
to  Helen  in  Egypt,  the  effect  of  which  was  to  banish  all  grief  and  pain. 
Later  the  term  was  sometimes  used  for  opium. 

89.  balm  in  Gilead.  Gilead  is  a  district  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan 
and  the  "balm"  an  herb  of  reputed  medicinal  value.  The  allusion 
here  is  to  Jeremiah  viii.  22  :  "Is  there  no  balm  in  Gilead?  is^there  no 
physician  there  ? "  The  lover  means  to  ask  if  there  is  any  remedy  for 
his  sorrow,  any  consolation.  Perhaps  he  means,  "  Is  there  any  solace 
after  death  ?  "  or  "  Is  there  any  solace  either  in  this  world  or  the  next  ?" 
93.  Aidenn  :  Eden,  Paradise,  from  the  Arabic  form  Adn ;  coined  by 
Poe  for  the  rhyme. 

101.  This  line,  Poe  said  in  "The  Philosophy  of  Composition,"  first 
betrays  clearly  the  allegorical  nature  of  the  poem. 

1 06.  the  lamp-light  o'er  him  streaming.    In  answer  to  criticism  on  this 
line,  Poe  explained,  "  My  conception  was  that  of  the  bracket  cande 
labrum  affixed  against  the  wrall,  high  up  above  the  door  and  bust,  as  is 
often  seen  in  the  English  palaces,  and  even  in  some  of  the  better  houses 
of  New  York." 

107,  108.  In  these  last  lines  the  allegory  is  fully  revealed. 

EULALIE  (Page  29) 

Published  in  1845  w*tn  the  subtitle,  "A  Song." 

19.  Astarte.    See  note  on  line  37  of  "Ulalume,"  page  189. 

TO  M.  L.  S (Page  30) 

Published  March  13,  1847,  an(^  addressed  to  Mrs.  Marie  Louise 
Shew,  who  had  been  a  veritable  angel  of  mercy  in  the  Poe  home.  She 
relieved  the  poverty  and  helped  to  care  for  Virginia  (who  died  Janu 
ary  29),  and  afterward  nursed  Poe  himself  during  his  severe  illness. 
Mrs.  Shew  had  had  some  medical  training  and  probably  saved  Poe'a 


NOTES  189 

life.    This  brief  poem  is  instinct  with  a  gratitude  and  reverence  easy  to 
understand,  and  is,  for  Poe,  unusually  spontaneous. 

ULALUME  (Page  30) 

Published  in  December,  1847,  ar>d  m  January,  1848.  The  earlier  form 
contained  an  additional  stanza,  afterward  wisely  omitted.  Read  the 
comment  on  the  poem  in  the  Introduction,  pages  xxiv-xxv. 

5.  Immemorial :  properly  means  extending  indefinitely  into  the  past. 
Poe  may  mean  that  the  year  has  seemed  endless  to  him,  but  apparently 
he  uses  the  word  in  the  sense  of  memorable. 

6,  7.  Auber  rhymes  with  October,  Weir  with  year;  the  names  were 
coined  by  Poe  for  rhyme  and  tone   color.    Note  the  resemblance  of 
"Weir"  to  "weird." 

8.  tarn :  a  small  mountain  lake.  It  is  used  provincially  in  England 
to  mean  a  boggy  or  marshy  tract.  Poe  used  the  word  to  signify  a  dark, 
stagnant  pool.  Cf.  "  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,"  page  49. 

11.  cypress.    What  is  its  significance? 

12.  Psyche:  soul.    Cf.  note  on  line  14  of  "To  Helen,"  page  183. 
14.  scoriae :  a  very  rare  word,  from  scoria  (lava). 

1 6.  Yaanek  :  another  specially  coined  word. 

35.  crescent :  suggesting  hope. 

37,  39.  Astarte :  a  Phoenician  goddess,  as  the  deity  of  love  corre 
sponding  to  Venus  (A'phrodite),  and  as  moon  goddess  to  Dian,  or  Diana 
(Artemis).  But  Diana  was  chaste  and  cold  to  the  advances  of  lovers, 
which  explains  "  she  (Astarte)  is  warmer  than  Dian." 

43.  where  the  worm  never  dies :   implies   the  gnawing  of  unending 
grief.    Cf.  Isaiah  Ixvi.  24,  and  Mark  ix.  44,  46,  48. 

44.  The  Lion  :  the  constellation  Leo. 

64.  sibyllic  :  usually  "  sibylline,"  prophetic ;  from  "  sibyl."  Consult 
Gayley's  "  Classic  Myths." 

79.  legended  tomb  :  having  on  it  an  inscription, 

TO  -  -  (Page  33) 

Published  in  March,  1848,  and  is  another  tribute  to  Mrs.  Shew.    See 

note  on  "To  M.  L.  S ,"  page  188. 

9-10.  The  quotation  is  from  George  Peele's  "  David  and  Bethsabe," 
an  English  drama  published  in  1599  : 

Or  let  the  dew  be  sweeter  far  than  that 
That  hangs,  like  chains  of  pearl,  on  Hermon  hill 
14-15.  Cf,  the  poem  "  IsrafeV  and  the  notes  on.  it. 


190  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

AN   ENIGMA  (Page  34) 

Published  in  March,  1848.  To  find  the  name,  read  the  first  letter  of 
the  first  line,  the  second  letter  of  the  second  line,  and  so  on.  In  form 
this  is  a  sonnet  irregular  in  rhyme  scheme. 

1.  Solomon  Don  Dunce  :  a  fanciful  name  for  a  stupid  person. 

6.  Petrarchan  stuff:  of  or  by  Petrarch  (1304-1374),  a  famous  Italian 
writer  of  sonnets. 

10.  tuckermanities :  a  contemptuous  allusion  to  the  poetic  efforts  of 
Henry  T.  Tuckerman,  a  New  England  writer  of  the  day. 

14.  dear  names  :  Sarah  Anna  Lewis,  a  verse  writer  of  the  day,  whom 
Poe  admired. 

TO  HELEN  (Page  35) 

Published  in  November,  1848  ;  addressed  to  Mrs.  Sarah  Helen  Whit 
man  (see  Introduction,  page  xvii).  Although  her  engagement  to  marry 
Poe  was  broken  off,  she  continued  to  admire  him  and  was  faithful  to  his 
memory  after  his  death.  The  poem  was  written  before  Poe  met  Mrs. 
Whitman,  and  is  said  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  poet's  having 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lady  walking  in  a  garden  by  moonlight. 

48.  Dian  :  Diana,  the  moon  goddess. 

66.  Venuses :  refers  at  once  to  the  planet  Venus  and  to  Venus,  god 
dess  of  love. 

A  VALENTINE  (Page  37) 

Published  in  1849.  The  name  is  found  as  in  "  An  Enigma,"  by  read 
ing  the  first  letter  of  the  first  line,  the  second  of  the  second,  and  so  on. 

2.  twins  of  Leda :  Castor  and  Pollux,  two  stars  in  the  constellation 
Gemini.    For  the  myth  consult  Gayley's  "  Classic  Myths." 

3.  her  own  sweet  name :  Frances  Sargent  Osgood.    See  note  on  the 
lines  "  To  F ,"  page  185. 

10.  Gordian  knot.    Explain  this  ;  consult  an  encyclopedia. 

14.  perdus  :  lost,  a  French  word  introduced  to  rhyme  with  "too." 

17.  lying:  used  in  a  double  sense. 

1 8.  Mendez  Ferdinando  Pinto,  a  Portuguese  traveler  (1509-1 583),  was 
said  to  have  been  the  first  white  man  to  visit  Japan.    He  wrote  an  ac 
count  of  his  travels,  which  at  the  time  was  considered  mere  romancing. 

FOR  ANNIE  (Page  37) 

Published  in  1849,  and  addressed  to  Mrs.  Richmond  of  Lowell,  Massa 
chusetts.  This  is  the  "  Annie  "  so  frequently  referred  to  in  biographies 


NOTES  191 

of  Poe,  who  also  figures  in  his  correspondence.  Of  all  the  women  asso 
ciated  with  Poe's  later  years  (see  Introduction,  pages  xvi-xvii),  "Annie" 
was  the  object  of  his  most  sincere  and  ardent  friendship,  and  was  his 
confidant  in  all  his  troubles,  —  including  the  courtship  of  Mrs.  Whitman. 
Poe  and  Mrs.  Clemm  wrere  frequent  visitors  at  her  home,  and  the  latter 
found  shelter  there  for  a  time  after  her  "Eddie's  "  death. 

This  poem  is  usually  regarded  as  one  of  the  author's  poorest,  though 
it  has  a  distinctly  individual  character  that  must  be  recognized.  Thus  Pro 
fessor  C.  F.  Richardson,  in  his  "  American  Literature,"  quoting  several 
stanzas,  remarks,  "  This  is  doggerel,  but  it  is  Poe's  special  doggerel." 
Some  of  the  lines  really  deserve  this  severe  epithet,  but  hardly  the 
entire  poem.  Its  theme  seems  to  be  peace  in  death  through  the  affec 
tion  of  Annie,  following  a  life  of  passion  and  sorrow,  and  so  regarded, 
it  has  some  strength. 

THE   BELLS  (Page  41) 

Published  in  1849.  Read  the  comment  on  this  poem  in  the  Intro 
duction,  page  xxv.  Though  not  especially  characteristic  of  him,  this 
is  one  of  Poe's  most  remarkable  poems,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most 
popular.  A  very  interesting  account  of  its  composition  may  be  found  in 
Woodberry's  biography,  pages  302-304,  or  in  Harrison's  biography, 
pages  286-288,  or  in  the  Stedman-Woodberry  edition  of  Poe's  Works, 
Vol.  X,  pages  183-186. 

10.  Runic.  Runes  are  the  characters  of  the  alphabet  of  the  early 
Germanic  peoples.  The  allusion  is  intended  to  suggest  mystery  and 
magic.  Consult  an  unabridged  dictionary  or  an  encyclopedia. 

23.  gloats.  What  does  the  word  mean  here  ?  Cf.  line  76  of  "  The 
Raven,"  and  corresponding  notes. 

ANNABEL   LEE  (Page  44) 

Published  in  the  New  York  Tribune,  October  9,  1849,  two  days  after 
the  poet's  death.  Read  the  comment  in  the  Introduction,  page  xxv. 
Note  the  mid-rhymes  in  line  26,  "chilling  and  killing,"  and  in  line  32, 
"  ever  dissever" ;  point  out  other  examples  in  "  The  Raven  "  and  other 
poems. 

TO   MY   MOTHER  (Page  46) 

Published  in  1849  !  m  form*  a  regular  Shakespearean  sonnet.  It  is  a 
sincere  tribute  addressed  to  Mrs.  Clemm,  mother  of  Poe's  girl  wife, 
Virginia,  a  woman  who  was  more  than  wrorthy  of  it.  The  tenderest  affec 
tion  existed  between  the  two,  and  Mrs.  Clemm  cared  for  him  after  Vir 
ginia's  death  and  grieved  profoundly  at  his  own.  She  lived  until  1871 


192  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

ELDORADO  (Page  46) 

This  first  appeared  in  the  Griswold  edition  of  1850 ;  no  earlier  publi 
cation  is  known.  It  was  probably  Poe's  last  composition,  and  this  story 
of  the  knight's  quest,  its  failure,  and  his  gaze  turned  to  "  the  Valley  of 
the  Shadow,"  is  a  fitting  finale  for  the  ill-starred  poet  (see  comment  in 
the  Introduction,  page  xxv). 

Eldorado :  a  fabled  city  or  country  abounding  in  gold  and  precious 
stones,  and  afterward  any  place  of  great  wealth.  The  word  is  often  used 
figuratively.  In  a  preface  to  an  early  volume  of  his  poetry,  Poe  alludes 
quite  incidentally  to  "  the  poet's  own  kingdom  —  his  El  Dorado,"  and  in 
this  sense  the  metaphor  may  be  accepted  here. 

Note  the  varying  sense  of  the  recurring  rhyme,  shadow.  In  the  first 
stanza  it  is  simply  contrasted  with  the  "  sunshine  "  or  happiness  of  life, 
in  the  second  it  implies  the  coming  of  discouragement  and  despair,  in 
the  third  it  is  the  shadow  of  death  cast  before,  in  the  fourth  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 

THE   HAUNTED  PALACE  (Page  59) 

Published  in  the  Baltimore  Afusetim  in  April,  1839,  and  in  September 
of  the  same  year  in  Burtorfs  Gentleman's  Magazine  as  part  of  the  tale 
"  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher  " ;  afterwards  published  in  1840,  184;;, 
and  1845.  ^  was  altered  very  slightly  in  revision.  Lowell  wrote  that  he 
knew  of  no  modern  poet  who  might  not  justly  be  proud  of  it  (see 
Introduction,  pages  xxiii-xxiv). 

5824.  Porphyrogene  :  from  Greek  words  meaning  "purple"  and 
"begotten,"  hence,  born  in  the  purple,  royal.  This  term,  or  "por- 
phyrogenitus,"  was  applied  in  the  Byzantine  empire  to  children  of  the 
monarch  born  after  his  accession  to  the  throne.  It  is  not  clear  whether 
the  word  is  used  here  as  a  descriptive  adjective  or  as  the  name  of  the 
monarch. 

TALES 

THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  USHER  (Page  49) 

Published  first  in  1839,  and  several  times  reprinted  with  revisions. 
Read  the  comment  in  the  Introduction,  page  xxvii.  Lowell  said  of  this 
story :  "  Had  its  author  written  nothing  else,  it  would  alone  have  been 
enough  to  stamp  him  as  a  man  of  genius,  and  a  master  of  a  classic 
style." 


NOTES  193 

This  tale  is  one  of  the  best  to  study  as  an  example  of  the  application 
of  Poe's  critical  theory  of  the  short  story  (see  Introduction,  page  xxvi). 
What  is  the  "effect"  sought?  Is  the  main  incident  of  the  tale  well 
adapted  to  produce  this  effect  ?  Are  the  parts  skillfully  related  to  one 
another  and  to  the  whole  ?  Is  the  setting  suitable  to  the  theme  ?  What 
is  the  effect  of  the  first  sentence  ?  Pick  out  a  number  of  rather  unusual 
words  which  Poe  seems  particularly  to  like  ;  observe  their  effect.  The 
adjectives  are  especially  worth  study;  in  the  first  sentence  try  the  effect 
of  substituting  for  "  soundless,"  "quiet,"  or  "silent,"  or  "noiseless." 

49.  Quotation:  "His  heart  is  a  suspended  lute;  as  soon  as  it  is 
touched  it  resounds."  P.  J.  Beranger  (1780-1857),  a  popular  French 
lyric  poet. 

50  1 2.  black  and  lurid  tarn :  see  note  to  line  8  of  "  Ulalume,"  page  1 89. 
Tarn  is  one  of  several  words  Poe  particularly  liked. 

53  10.  low  cunning.  See  if  the  reason  for  this  encounter  appears 
later. 

53  31.  ennuy6  :  a  French  word  meaning  "wearied,"  "bored." 

54  5-24.  The  description  of  Usher  is  in  the  main  a  remarkably  good 
portrait  of  Poe  himself. 

55  20-30.  Observe  the  extreme  to  which  Poe  goes  in  this  study  of 
terror;  it  is  the  fear  of  fear  that  oppresses  Usher. 

56  2.  too  shadowy  here  to  be  re-stated.    Note  the  effect  of  making 
this  weird  suggestion  instead  of  a  clear  statement. 

57  26.  Von  Weber  (1786-1826),  a  famous  German  composer. 

58  5.  Henry  Fuseli,  or  Fuesli  (1742-1825),  as  he  was  known  in  Eng 
land,  was  born  in  Zurich,   Switzerland,  and  named  Johann   Heinrich 
Fuessli.    He  was  a  professor  in  the  Royal  Academy  and  painted  a  series 
of  highly  imaginative  pictures  illustrating  Shakespeare  and  Milton. 

59.  The  Haunted  Palace.     For  notes  see  page  192. 

60  30-31.  Richard  Watson   (1737-1816),   Bishop    of   Llandaff,  was 
for  a  time  professor  of  chemistry  at  Cambridge  University  and  wrote 
popular  essays  on  that  subject.    James  Gates  Percival  (1795-1856)  was 
an  American  poet,  musician,  linguist,  surgeon,  and  scientist ;  it  is  pos 
sible    the   reference  is  to   Thomas   Percival   (1740-1804),  an   English 
physician.     Lazzaro  Spallanzani  (1729-1799)  was  an  Italian  naturalist, 
distinguished  in  experimental  physiology. 

61  22-31.  All  of  these  titles  have  been  traced,  except  the  last,  which 
Poe  either  invented,  or,  in  quoting,  altered.    Some  of  the  works  named 
he  apparently  had  not  read,  since  their  character  is  not  suited  to  his 
purpose.    Jean  Baptiste  Louis  Gresset  (1709-1777)  was  a  French  poet 


194  SELECTIONS    FROM    POE 

and  playwright;  the  two  works  mentioned  are  poems,  —  the  first,  a  tale 
of  an  escaped  parrot  who  stopped  at  a  convent  and  shocked  the  nuns 
by  his  profanity.  Niccolo  Machiavelli  (1469-1527)  was  a  famous  Italian 
historian  and  statesman,  who  wrote  a  celebrated  treatise  called  "  The 
Prince  " ;  "  Belphegor  "  is  a  satire  on  marriage.  Emanuel  Swedenborg 
(1688-1772)  was  an  eminent  Swedish  theologian  and  religious  mystic. 
Ludvig  Holberg  (1684-1754)  was  a  great  Danish  poet  and  novelist;  the 
work  mentioned  is  one  of  his  best  known  poems  and  has  been  trans 
lated  into  the  principal  languages  of  Europe.  Flud,  Robert  Fludd  (1574- 
1637),  was  an  English  physician,  inventor,  and  mystic  philosopher.  Jean 
D'IndaginS  (flourished  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century)  was  a 
priest  of  Steinheim,  Germany,  who  wrote  on  palmistry  and  similar  sub 
jects.  Marin  Cureau  de  la  Chambre(i594-i675),  physician  to  Louis  XIV, 
who  was  an  adept  in  physiognomy,  and  wrote  a  work  on  "  The  Art  of 
Judging  Men."  Ludwig  Tieck  (1773-1853)  was  a  German  romantic 
novelist.  Tommaso  Canipanella  (1568-1639)  was  an  Italian  monk  and 
philosopher,  who  suffered  persecution  by  the  Inquisition.  Eymeric, 
Nicolas  Eymericus  (1320-1399),  was  a  native  of  Gerona,  Spain,  who 
entered  the  Dominican  order  and  rose  to  the  rank  of  chaplain  to  the 
Pope  and  Grand  Inquisitor ;  his  famous  "  Directorium  Inquisitorum  " 
is  an  elaborate  account  of  the  Inquisition.  Pomponius  Mela  was  a  Latin 
writer  of  the  first  century  A.D.,  who  wrote  a  famous  work  on  geography 
"  De  Situ  Orbis  "  (Concerning  the  Plan  of  the  Earth). 

61  31.  Satyrs  and  JEgipans  :  in  classic  mythology  the  satyrs  and 
minor  deities  of  wood  and  field,  with  the  body  of  a  man  and  the  feet, 
hair,  and  horns  of  a  goat ;  aegipans  is  practically  equivalent  to,  and  is  also 
an  epithet  of  Pan,  the  satyr-like  rural  god. 

61  33-34.  curious  book  in  quarto  Gothic  :  printed  in  the  black-faced 
letters  of  mediaeval  times. 

61  35.  The  Latin  title,  which  has  not  been  found,  means  "  Vigils  for 
the  Dead  according  to  the  Choir  of  the  Church  of  Mayence." 

66  1-2.  The  "  Mad  Trist  "  of  Sir  Launcelot  Canning  has  not  been 
found ;  undoubtedly  the  title  was  coined  and  the  quotations  invented 
to  fit  the  text,  as  they  do  perfectly. 

69  24-25.  It  was  the  work  of  the  rushing  gust.  Note  the  fine  effect 
of  the  momentary  suspense,  the  instant's  disappointment  carried  by 
this  clause. 

WILLIAM  WILSON  (Page  71) 

First  published  in  a  magazine  in  1840  (see  comment  in  the  Intro 
duction,  page  xxvii). 


NOTES  195 

71.  Quotation.  William  Chamberlayne,  an  English  poet  and  physi 
cian  (1619-1689),  who  in  1659  published  "  Pharronida,  a  Heroic  Poem." 

71  1 8.  Elah-Gabalus  :    usually  Elagabulus,   emperor  of  Rome  from 
218-222,  who  indulged  in  the  wildest  debaucheries. 

72  26-73  2.  The  description  here  is  based  on  fact,  apparently  being  a 
true  picture  of  the  English  school  attended  by  Poe  himself  (see  Intro 
duction,  page  xii). 

7831.  Draconian  Laws  :  Draco  was  an  Athenian  legislator,  who  codi 
fied  the  laws  of  his  city  in  621  B.C.  The  penalty  for  every  offense  was 
death,  and  the  laws  were,  therefore,  said  to  be  written  in  blood,  not  ink. 

765.  peine  forte  et  dure:  "punishment  severe  and  merciless";  a 
penalty  formerly  imposed  by  English  law  upon  persons  who  refused  to 
plead  on  being  arraigned  for  felony.  It  consisted  in  laying  the  accused 
on  his  back  on  a  bare  floor  and  placing  a  great  iron  weight  on  his  chest 
until  he  consented  to  plead  or  died.  There  is  one  instance  of  the  inflic 
tion  of  this  punishment  in  American  colonial  history :  Giles  Cory,  accused 
of  witchcraft,  was  pressed  to  death  in  Salem,  Massachusetts,  in  1692. 

75  33.  exergues :  the  exergue  is  a  term  in  numismatics  to  signify  the 
space  under  the  principal  figure  on  the  reverse  of  a  coin,  usually  con 
taining  the  date  or  place  of  coining. 

76  7.  "  Oh,  le  bon  temps,  que  ce  siecle  de  fer  I  "  "  Oh  !  the  good  time, 
the  age  of  iron." 

86  u.  Herodes  Atticus:  a  Greek  born  about  A.D.  101,  who  inherited 
from  his  father,  of  the  same  name,  great  wealth,  to  which  he  added  by 
marriage.  He  was  a  noted  teacher  of  rhetoric  and  became  a  Roman 
consul. 

A   DESCENT  INTO  THE  MAELSTROM  (Page  94) 

First  published  in  a  magazine  in  1841  (see  comment  in  the  Intro 
duction,  pages  xxvii-xxviii). 

94.  Quotation.  Joseph  Glanville,  or  Glanvill  (1636-1680),  an  English 
clergyman  and  author  of  several  works  on  philosophy  and  religion. 
The  quotation  has  been  found  in  the  writings  of  Glanvill  by  Professor 
Woodberry,  but  Poe  quoted  rather  carelessly,  and  his  extract  varies 
slightly  from  the  original.  The  Democritus  referred  to  was  a  famous 
Greek  philosopher,  born  about  470  B.C.,  who  taught  the  atomic  theory. 

94  1-3.  Note  the  effect  of  the  opening  sentences  in  seizing  attention 
and  arousing  interest  at  once. 

95  21.  Nubian  geographer  .  .  .  Mare  Tenebrarum.  The  same  allusion 
occurs  in  "  Eleonora,"  and  in  "  Eureka"  Poe  speaks  of  "  the  Mare  Tene 
brarum,  —  an  ocean  well  described  by  the  Nubian  geographer,  Ptolemy 


196  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

Hephestion."  Apparently  he  refers  to  Claudius  Ptolemy,  a  celebrated 
philosopher  who  flourished  in  Alexandria  in  the  second  century  A.D. 
His  theory,  known  as  the  Ptolemaic  System,  remained  the  standard 
authority  in  astronomy  to  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages,  while  his  geog 
raphy  was  accepted  until  the  era  of  the  great  discoveries  opened  in  the 
fifteenth  century.  Ptolemy  is  thought  to  have  been  born  in  Egypt,  and 
it  is  impossible  to  say  what  grounds  Poe  had  for  calling  him  Nubian. 
Klare  Tenebrarum  means  "sea  of  darkness,"  the  Atlantic. 

96  10-15.  This  is  a  real  description  of  the  geography  of  the  region 
of  the  Lofoden  islands.     Refer  to  a  good  map  of  Norway. 

9727.  Maelstrom:  from  Norwegian  words  meaning  "grind"  and 
"  stream."  The  swift  tidal  currents  and  eddies  of  the  Lofoden  islands 
are  very  dangerous,  but  the  early  accounts  are  greatly  exaggerated,  and 
Poe's  description  is,  aside  from  being  based  on  these  accounts,  purely 
imaginative. 

97  32.  Jonas  Ramus.    Professor  Woodberry,  whose  study  of  Poe's 
text  has  been  exhaustive,  has  an  interesting  note  to  this  effect :  Poe 
used  an  article  in  an  early  edition  of  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  in 
which  a  passage  was  taken  from  Pontoppidan's  "  The  Natural  History  of 
Norway "  without   acknowledgment,    this  in  turn   having  been   taken 
(with  proper  acknowledgment)   from  Ramus.    The  Britannica,  in  the 
ninth  edition,  after  giving  Poe  credit  for  "  erudition  taken  solely  from 
a  previous  edition  of  this  very  encyclopedia,  which  in  its  turn  had  stolen 
the  learning  from  another,  quotes  the  parts  that  Poe  invented  out  of 
his  own  head."    See  "  Whirlpool  "  in  the  Britannica. 

98  26-27.  Norway  mile:  a  little  over  four  and  a  half  English  miles. 

99  19.  Phlegethon  :  a  river  of  Hades  in  which  flowed  flames  instead 
of  water. 

100  4.  Athanasius  Kircher  (1601-1680)  was  a  learned  Roman  Catholic 
writer,  a  native  of  Germany.    See  "  Whirlpool  "  in  the  Britannica. 

105  2.  what  a  scene  it  was  to  light  up  !  Interest  in  the  narrative 
should  not  hurry  the  reader  too  much  to  appreciate  this  scene,  —  the 
magnificent  setting  of  the  adventure. 

109  10.  tottering  bridge,  etc.:  Al  Sirat,  the  bridge  from  earth  over 
the  abyss  of  hell  to  the  Mohammedan  paradise.  It  is  as  narrow  as  a 
sword's  edge,  and  while  the  good  traverse  it  in  safety,  the  wicked  plunge 
to  torment. 

Ill  35.  Archimedes  of  Syracuse  (B.C.  287-212)  was  the  greatest  of 
ancient  mathematicians ;  the  work  to  which  Poe  refers  deals  with 
floating  bodies. 


NOTES  197 

THE  MASQUE  OF  THE  RED  DEATH   (Page  113) 

First  published  in  Graham^  Magazine  for  May,  1842  (see  comment 
in  the  Introduction,  page  xxvii). 

113.  The  "  Red  Death  "  is  a  product  of  Poe's  own  imagination;  there 
is  no  record  of  such  a  disease  in  medical  history. 

113  3.  avatar:  a  word  from  Hindoo  mythology,  in  which  it  means 
an  incarnation.  The  word  is  used  here  in  its  secondary  sense,  —  a  visible 
manifestation. 

113  ii.  This  paragraph  suggests  the  circumstances  under  which 
Boccaccio  represents  the  stories  of  his  famous  "  Decameron."  A  com 
parison  will  be  interesting. 

1163.  decora:  possibly  used  as  a  plural  of  "decorum,"  propriety; 
probably  it  is  intended  to  suggest  ornamentation. 

116  14.  Heinani :  a  well-known  tragedy  by  the  great  French  writer, 
Victor  Hugo  (1802-1885). 

THE  GOLD-BUG  (Page  120) 

First  published  in  the  Dollar  Newspaper  of  Philadelphia  in  June,  1843, 
as  the  $100  prize  story  (see  comment  in  the  Introduction,  page  xxviii). 
This  is  the  best  and  most  widely  read  of  the  stories  regarding  Captain 
Kidd's  treasure  Read  an  account  of  Captain  Kidd  in  an  encyclopedia 
or  dictionary  of  biography. 

Is  the  main  incident  of  the  story  the  discovery  of  the  treasure  or  the 
solution  of  the  cryptogram?  Would  the  first  satisfy  you  without  the 
second  ?  The  plot  is  worthy  of  careful  study.  Consider  the  following 
points,  for  example :  the  significance  of  the  chilly  day,  how  Lieutenant 

G affects  the  course  of  events,  the  incident  of  the  dog  rushing  in, 

the  effect  of  introducing  the  gold-bug  and  making  it  the  title  of  the 
story.  If  Poe's  purpose  was  to  make  a  story  of  cryptography,  think  of 
some  of  the  innumerable  plots  he  might  have  used,  and  see  what  you 
think  of  the  effectiveness  of  the  one  chosen. 

120.  Quotation.  Arthur  Murphy  (1727-1805),  an  English  actor  and 
playwright,  wrote  a  comedy  called  "  All  in  the  Wrong,"  but  Professor 
W.  P.  Trent,  who  examined  the  play,  failed  to  find  Poe's  quotation. 

120  15.  Poe,  while  serving  in  the  army,  was  stationed  at  Fort  Moul- 
trie,  and  should  have  known  the  region  well,  but  his  description  is  said, 
to  be  inaccurate. 

121  ii.  Jan  Swammerdamm   (1637-1680),  a  Dutch  naturalist,  who 
devoted  most  of  his  time  to  the  study  of  insects. 


198  SELECTIONS    FROM   POE 

1227.  scarabaeus:  Latin  for  "beetle,"  and  the  scientific  term  in 
entomology.  While  there  are  various  golden  beetles,  Poe's  was  a 
creation  of  his  own. 

122  26.  This  is  one  of  the  early  attempts  to  use  negro  dialect.  Poe's 
efforts  are  rather  clumsy,  considering  his  long  residence  in  the  South. 
The  reader  will  notice  a  number  of  improbable  expressions  of  Jupiter's, 
introduced  for  humorous  effect,  but  the  general  character  of  the  old 
negro  is  portrayed,  in  the  main,  very  well. 

124  5.  scarabaeus  caput  hominis  :  man's-head  beetle. 

127  17.  brusquerie  :  brusqueness,  abruptness. 

127  20.  solus  :    Latin  for  "  alone."    The  Latin  word  is  altogether 
unnecessary.    Poe  was  often  rather  affected  in  the  use  of  foreign  words 
and  phrases. 

128  22.  empressement :   French  for  "  eagerness,"  cordiality. 

132  31.  Liriodendron  Tulipifera  :  the  scientific  name  for  the  tulip  tree, 
which  sometimes  attains  a  height  of  140  feet  and  a  diameter  of  9  feet. 

138  25-26.  curvets  and  caracoles  :  rare  terms  belonging  to  horseman 
ship  ;  the  first  is  a  lo\v  leap,  the  second  a  sudden  wheel. 

142  13.  counters  :  pieces  of  money,  coins;  or  the  meaning  may  be 
imitation  coins  for  reckoning  or  for  counting  in  games. 

142  16.  No  American  money.    Why? 

142  31.  Bacchanalian  figures  :  figures  dancing  and  drinking  wine  at  a 
celebration  of  the  worship  of  Bacchus,  god  of  wine. 

143  29.  parchment.    What  is  the  difference  ? 

147  20.  aqua  regia  :  "royal  water,"  so  called  because  it  dissolves 
gold,  is  a  mixture  of  nitric  and  hydrochloric  acids. 

150  15.  Golconda  :  a  ruined  city  of  India,  once  famous  as  a  place  for 
the  cutting  and  polishing  of  diamonds ;  used  figuratively  in  the  sense  of 
a  mine  of  wealth. 

150  30.  Read  Poe's  article  on  "  Cryptography,"  included  in  his  col 
lected  works. 

151  13.  Spanish  main:  that  part  of  the  Caribbean  Sea  adjacent  to 
the  coast  of  South  America.    It  was  part  of  the  route  of  Spanish  mer 
chant  vessels  between  Spain  and  her  new-world  possessions,  and  was 
infested  with  pirates. 

THE   PURLOINED   LETTER  (Page  160) 

First  published  in  1845  (see  comment  on  the  detective  stories  in  the 
Introduction,  page  xxviii).  This  story  is  peculiarly  original  in  its  incidents 
and  subtle  in  its  reasoning.  "The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue"  should 


NOTES  199 

certainly  be  read  also,  and  perhaps  it  will  prove  of  more  sustained 
interest  to  the  majority  of  readers. 

160.  Quotation.  Lucius  Annaeus  Seneca  (B.C.  4-A.D.  65)  was  a  cele 
brated  Roman  philosopher  and  tutor  of  the  Emperor  Nero.  The  quota 
tion  means :  "  Nothing  is  more  hateful  to  wisdom  than  excessive  acumen." 

160  3.  Dupin :  introduced  in  "The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue." 

160  4-5.  Au  troisieme :  French,  literally,  "  on  the  third,"  but  the  mean 
ing  is  the  fourth  floor,  because  the  count  is  begun  above  the  ground 
floor ;  Faubourg  St.  Germain :  an  aristocratic  section  of  Paris. 

160  15-16.  Monsieur  G :  introduced  in  "  The  Murders  in  the  Rue 

Morgue." 

164  3.  Hotel:  in  French  usage,  a  dwelling  of  some  pretension,  —  a 
mansion. 

164  7.  au  fait :  French  for  familiar,  expert. 

168  26.  John  Abernethy  (1764-1831),  an  eminent  English  surgeon, 
was  noted  for  his  brusque  manners  and  his  eccentricities. 

171  15-16.    Frai^ois,   Due  de  la  Rochefoucauld  (1613-1680)  was  a 
French  moralist,  author  of  the  famous  "  Maxims  "  ;  Jean  de  la  Bruyere 
(1645-1696)  was  a  French  essayist;  see  notes  on  Machiavelli  and  Cam- 
panella  under  "The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,"  page  194. 

172  19.  recherchS  :  French  for  "sought  after,"  selected  with  care. 

173  i.  non  distributio  medii :  "undistributed  middle,"  a  term  in  logic 
for  a  form  of  fallacious  reasoning.    Consult  an  encyclopedia,  articles  on 
"  Logic,"  "  Syllogism,"  and  "  Fallacy,"  or  the  Century  Dictionary  under 
"  Fallacy." 

173  1 6.  Nicholas  Chamfort  (1741-1794),  a  Frenchman,  was  said  to  be 
the  best  conversationalist  of  his  day,  and  wrote  famous  maxims  and 
epigrams.  The  quotation  means,  "  It  is  safe  to  wager  that  every  pop 
ular  idea,  every  received  convention,  is  a  piece  of  foolishness,  because 
it  has  suited  the  majority." 

173  27-28.  ambitus  :  a  going  round,  illegal  striving  for  office  ;  religio: 
scrupulousness,  conscientiousness ;  homines  honesti :  men  of  distinction. 

174i7.  Jacob  Bryant  (1715-1804),  an  Englishman;  his  work  on 
mythology  is  of  no  value. 

175  5.  intriguant:  an  intriguer. 

176  3.  vis  inertiae  :  force  of  inertia. 

180  5.  facilis  descensus  Averni :  "the  descent  to  Avernus  is  easy." 
Virgil's  ";£neid,"  VI,  126;  Cranch's  translation,  VI,  161-162.  Lake 
Avernus  was,  in  classical  mythology,  the  entrance  to  Hades.  Consult 
Gayley's  "  Classic  Myths." 


200  SELECTIONS   FROM   POE 

180  6.  Angelica  Catalan!  (1780-1849),  a  famous  Italian  singer. 

180  9.  monstrum  horrendum  :  a  dreadful  monster. 

180  23-24.  "  A  design  so  baneful,  if  not  worthy  of  Atreus,  is  worthy 
3f  Thyestes."  Atreus  and  Thyestes  were  brothers  to  whom,  in  classic 
story,  the  most  terrible  crimes  wrere  attributed. 

180  25.  Prosper  J.  de  Cr6billon  (1674-1762),  a  noted  French  tragic 
poet.  The  quotation  is  from  "  Atree  et  Thyeste." 


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